


Aries

by Femalefonzie



Category: Clone High
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate universes galore, Angst, Bodyswap, Fluff, Ghosts, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, I’m just listing these off as I go along, M/M, No character death is permanent in this, Pokemon - Freeform, Ponce puts up with a lot of shit, Sea Monsters, Sexual Content, Some are more realistic than others, Temporary Character Death, but I’m having fun with it, like it changes from drabble to drabble, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 50,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18284132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Femalefonzie/pseuds/Femalefonzie
Summary: For the month of April, since I’m turning 21, I decided to write 21 drabbles centring around JFK and Ponce ranging the gauntlet. Some are fluffy, some are angst, some are nsfw, you get the idea.





	1. Prompt 1: Sick

 

“I’m dying. Ponce I’m dying. Goodbye my friend, my best friend, my love, I will see you on the other side.”

“Jack you have the flu. You’re not going to die.” 

~~~

Ponce had been at work doing inventory when he felt his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket. It was a slow day so he didn’t feel the usual pressure to ignore his messages and check them after work. He pulled his phone and frowned at the notification. 

Literally dying. Send help. - Bambi 

Ponce responded with:

At work. What’s going on? - Poncey

IM DYING THATS WHATS GOING ON! - Bambi

JFK tended to be dramatic. Something told Ponce that he’d show up at his boyfriend’s place to find him facing off against a spider or whining over a head cold. Still it was a slow day so he could afford to take the day off. He called in back for Mary Shelley to cover him, grabbed his backpack, and headed out. On his way out of the mall Ponce took the liberty of stopping in at the pharmacy and putting together a little get-well kit for the other boy; chicken soup, a bottle of ginger ale, some Ben and Jerry’s, and a bubble bath bomb. He slipped his care package into his bag and stepped out into the parking lot. He’d taken his motorcycle to work this morning (yet another stroke of luck on Jack’s part) so he didn’t have to wait for the bus. 

It only took fifteen minutes to get to JFK’s from the mall. Ponce pulled into the driveway, cut the motor, and stepped off. He already knew (and had plans) to crash at his boyfriend’s sometime this week while his dads were out of town so he didn’t have to worry about making sure he wasn’t blocking the driveway. The front door was always unlocked so Ponce just stepped inside without knocking, “Jack?” He called out and shut the door behind him. “Jack I’m here.”

Nothing. Ponce set his bag down on a nearby chair and made his way upstairs to where the bedrooms were. “Jack?” He tried again. “You alright?”

The greaser made it to the top of the stairs before he heard the retching. He sprinted to the bathroom but found it empty and doubled back to the bedrooms. The door to his boyfriend’s room was slightly ajar and through the crack in the door he could see JFK curled up on the floor in front of his bed, wrapped up in a fluffy red blanket, vomiting into a garbage can. Suddenly he felt like an asshole. 

“Hey Jackie-Boy,” Ponce said softly, pushing the door open and entering the room. He sat down on the floor beside Jack’s blanket cocoon and draped an arm across the other boy’s shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

JFK responded by giving him a nasty look and immediately vomiting into the garbage can again. 

“Okay, not good. How long have you been like this? Did it just start this morning or...?”

“Nah...” JFK wiped his mouth off on his bare arm and adjusted the blanket some more. “I had this weird feeling last night. I thought it was just my stomach settling...and I woke up this morning feeling like shit.” 

Ponce frowned. That wasn’t good. He’d heard from a couple people that there was a flu bug going around but JFK didn’t get sick often and usually the high school was one of the first places in town to feel the damage of cold and flu season. He may have been dealing with patient zero. “Have you been able to keep anything down?”

“Water. Sprite. Been scared to try solid food.” JFK replied. He clutched the garbage can close to his chest like a life preserver. How long has he suffered before messaging Ponce? It was getting closer and closer to noon now so it would have meant a couple hours of trying and failing to take care of himself. Despite the risk of catching whatever JFK had Ponce felt the need to lean over and kiss the other boy’s forehead,

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to go run a hot bath for you. I have some ginger ale, and if you’re up to it later I also brought some soup and some ice cream-“

“What kind?” asked JFK. 

“Mint chocolate chunk,” Ponce replied. He never could understand why his boyfriend liked the stuff. It tasted like toothpaste to him. “You’ll get it after the soup and only if you can keep that down.”

JFK rolled his eyes and Ponce noticed how the bags underneath them. That weird feeling last night must have kept the other boy from getting any decent sleep. After JFK had his bath and tried some food (and after a decent period of time spent waiting to make sure he didn’t puke it back up), Ponce was going to make sure he went to bed. “Okay dad.” 

Ponce just shrugged in response. “You keep that up and I won’t give you the bubble bath bomb I got you.”

JFK’s eyes lit up at the mention of a bath bomb and he managed to smile a little. Cleo has gotten him hooked on the products after giving him a bag of them for Snowflake Day one year. He preferred the ones that mixed colours or turned to bubble bath, but over the course of his collecting had acquired a couple stranger bombs. Ponce still had the messages saved in his phone from the time the presidential clone bought a bath slime bomb and nearly destroyed his bathroom in the aftermath. “I’ll be good.” JFK promised. If you ever wanted the boy to do anything for you, all you had to do was offer him either a quality bath bomb or a blowjob. Over the course of their relationship Ponce had used both to his advantage. 

The greaser climbed back up to his feet and went into the bathroom to start getting things ready. He’d have to grab his backpack from downstairs but in the meantime he could start filling the tub with water. He could hear JFK struggle to get to his feet and shuffle into the bathroom behind him. He was still wrapped up in the blanket, half dragging it behind him as he walked. A pair of pals arms snakes around Ponce’s waist and JFK leaned his head against the other boy’s back, nuzzling against him, “What would I do without you?”

“Probably drown in your own vomit but let’s not think about that right now-“

JFK went stiff against him then started to cough. Before Ponce could even look back and ask Jack if he was alright he felt something hot and wet splatter over the nape of his neck and his back. Ponce froze and he heard JFK inhale sharply behind him. “D-di-did you just...-?”

“Oh my god!” JFK mumbled and stumbled back into the bathroom counter. He was close to the verge of tears and furiously wiping at his eyes to stop himself from outright crying. “I’m so sorry Ponce! I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay. It’s okay Jack. Just stay still for a sec okay?” Ponce said, spinning around to face the other boy. Yeah it was gross, but not the grossest thing that had ever happened to Ponce. He took his jacket and undershirt off and tossed them into a heap on the floor. He’d have to do a load of laundry later but he could easily knock that problem out while JFK was napping. The greaser loosened the blanket from around his boyfriend and added it to the pile, followed shortly by the tank top and pyjama bottoms that JFK wore to bed. “Change of plans. I’ll give you the bath bomb later. Right now you’re getting a shower and I’m joining you.”

“I didn’t mean to...” JFK started to say but Ponce wouldn’t hear it. 

“I know you didn’t.” The greaser said. “You’re sick, Jack. You can’t control it. But uh...just to play it safe we should probably keep your garbage can right outside the shower.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s been sick the past two days and pushing their annoyance onto JFK?


	2. Prompt 2: Musical AU

It was still dark when JFK opened his eyes but he light enough for him to make out the form of his best friend and companion leaning over the balcony railing. With a groan he rolled over into a sitting position, “You’re up early.” JFK murmured and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Headline won’t be our for hours now. Go back to bed.” If you could call the piles of rags they slept on every night beds. Somehow they were still comfier than the cots set up inside the boarding house. Every summer the pair grabbed whatever leftover cloth they could and relocated to the balcony just to get a better night’s sleep whenever they could. Of course the rain and other bed weather had a habit of disturbing the small comfort the pair had.

Ponce didn’t move. He was already dressed. How he was able to move around the boarding house without making a sound was beginning to get creepy. He was like some kind of vampire; able to come and go as he pleased. “Sun’s coming up.” Ponce replied. 

Sure enough the sky was slowly growing lighter and lighter until the darkness was replaced with a beautiful golden orange haze. Streaks of pink, of a soft violet, ran above the skyline of the city. JFK pushed himself up off the iron grate floor and onto his feet. He walked over to the railing and took his place at the other boy’s side. “Oh yeah?” JFK asked. “Pretty huh?”

Ponce nodded but JFK had known the other boy long enough to recognize when he was in a mood. Standing there in silence, just looking over the city in quiet contemplation, eyes blank and his lips together in a frown; this could only mean one thing Ponce. He was daydreaming again. “I bet it’ll look better in Santa Fe.”

“Santa Fe.” JFK scoffed. How long had he been hearing about Santa fucking Fe. It was just a city. He couldn’t see why his friend was so obsessed with it. “What’s so special about Santa Fe anyway? What’s Santa Fe got that New York don’t?”

“In Santa Fe the air is clear.” Ponce answered as if he had firsthand knowledge of the place but JFK knew better. He knew that Ponce, like him, had never even been outside the city before. Still the other boy dreamed of this city and he saw it every time he closed his eyes. “The sky is bluer, the grass is greener, and you can make it without killing yourself in the process. This town sucked the life out of my dad Jack but it’s not gonna get me. I’m gonna get out.”

“But everyone dreams about coming to New York.”

“Take your small life in a big city. Give me a big life in a small town.” Somewhere where everyone knew his name, where he could work normal shifts and not have to worry about dropping dead afterwards, where he could get a nice little place for himself with a vibrant yard and a view of the sky that was polluted with the rooftops of other buildings. Something quaint. Something peaceful. Somewhere he could call home. Ponce gave his friend a playful nudge and added, “You should come with me.”

His friend could paint a lovely picture, JFK would give him that but the fact remained he had no idea what lay beyond Manhattan. “Ponce this town is all I know.”

“Not true.” Said his companion. “You know me. Think about it; the two of us, saving enough, boarding a train, and racing off together.” 

Wasn’t that an idea? Running away together like teenagers in love. Except they weren’t in love. At least Ponce wasn’t, anyway. There were moments, growing more and more frequent everyday, when JFK would look over at the other boy and feel something stirring inside the deepest pit of his stomach. His friend hasn’t invaded his dreams yet but something told JFK that it was only a matter of time. “In Santa Fe how would we work? Where’d we get our money?”

“Anyway we want.” Ponce explained. Everyone knew about the job boom out west but something about farm work didn’t seem all that appealing to Theo their boy. Then again he couldn’t see himself working to death in a factory or in a mine and as soon as he got old enough were being a newsie wasn’t enough to pay the bills, that was where he was going to end up. “Farm and ranch-hands are getting hired by the dozen, we may even be able to start our own place. There’s jobs in town, and on the outskirts, and we won’t have to stand around all day eating our losses when we can’t sell enough papes.”

“Santa Fe...” Sooner or later JFK would wake up and his best friend would be gone. He’d leave in the middle of the night to avoid making a scene with the rest of the fellas, and sneak off to the train station. From there it would be a clear shot west after his dreams. He wouldn’t say goodbye to JFK. They both knew that when they inevitably were to part ways, it would get ugly fast. So Ponce would wake up early, just like today, and leave his companion dreaming, never to see him again. That thought, that scenario, was the most horrifying thing JFK could think of enduring and he knew that it was bound to happen one day or another. But maybe not. He didn’t exactly have big plans in New York City and was always open for anything. “How much do we need to get there?”

“I got a decent amount saved. Until then though, we can always make more.”

That was one good side to living in New York every day was another opportunity to cash in big. JFK grinned and patted Ponce on the back, “Come on then. Let’s beat the others to the square and get a good seat for the headline!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love Newsies! I don’t know why but I felt that Ponce was a good fit for Jack and JFK...he’s kinda like Crutchie and Race rolled into one. Anyways this was just short and sweet but the next one is going to be a bit longer. And NSFW. I don’t want to give too much away but I will say that it’s a bit of an AU (modern day but not clones if that makes sense) and that it involves the boys getting a bit kinky >:)
> 
> Enjoy.


	3. Prompt 3: Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said that this halter would be the boy’s getting into some kinky shit? This isn’t that. Happy late April Fool’s Day. 
> 
> I guess I should also put a trigger warning on here. One character implicitly mentions suicide. It’s like two lines though but still just a heads up. 
> 
> Kinky shit to resume later.

They buried him on a Wednesday. A memorial was held in the school gym complete with sobbing ex girlfriends throwing themselves over his casket and his friends crying into their hands in their seats. His locker was covered in flowers and little notes talking about how much fun he was and how deeply he would be missed. Pictures of him with his fellow students were tapped between the scribbles and the flowers, and someone took the time to make a collage of some of the better photos and bring it to the service. In the centre was a picture taken on the end of the year grade three field trip. An eight year old Ponce De Leon and John F Kennedy had their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders and were grinning up at the camera. JFK was holding up the peace sign with his free hand and Ponce was sticking his tongue out. They were standing by the pier and in the background you could see some of the other kids splashing around in the ocean. It had been a bright and sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. JFK always loved sunny days when you could wear just a t-shirt and jeans to school without the need for a jacket; when you could feel the warmth from the sun on your shoulders and the only thing cooling you off was a gentle breeze blowing in from the hills. It was raining when they laid him to rest. 

Throughout the memorial and the funeral Ponce sat next to JFK’s dads. The three sat in silence; staring blankly at the solid oak coffin sitting before them and each silently hoping that at any minute the lid would be thrown off and JFK, alive and well, would stumble out onto the floor. But nothing happened. Jack was dead and there was no coming back from that. 

Everything happened so quickly. Just a few days ago Jack had been alive and well and now he was gone. After today Ponce was never going see him again. The greaser wanted to cry; wanted to just throw his head back scream; wanted to curse out God for taking his best friend away but he couldn’t. He lacked the energy. Any will Ponce had to do anything had been zapped out of his body as soon as he heard that JFK was dead. 

~~~

“Its a drag race for the girl’s heart Ponce. I gotta compete. I just know that I’d be a lot better with you spotting me.”

They stood outside the main doors to the school. Ponce had been smoking a cigarette and leaning back against he bro k, and JFK had come along for the company. He had been prattling on and on about some drag race happening soon but it all sounded like jibberish to Ponce. Besides he had other plans, “It just seems a bit old school to me. What’s so special about Cleo anyway? Sure she’s a nice girl and all but there’s plenty of fish in the sea, my friend.”

“Not like her Ponce-O.” JFK said and kicked a nearby pebble. “I gotta race. It’s a matter of honour now.”

“Whatever.” Ponce said and took a long drag from his smoke. “I still can’t go though man. I need to get this paper done for Mr. Sheepman. I’ll be rooting for you though.”

“I get it.” JFK explained. There was a reason he had been able to maintain good grades while living the lifestyle of a fraternity president and that was the time he devoted to studying. Still something told Ponce that JFK wasn’t 100% on board with this idea of racing alone but what was the worst that could happen? “Hey, when I win you should totally score a girl. Then we could go hang out and do that double-date thing.”

“Yeah...sure.” Ponce tossed his smoke to the ground and extinguished it with his foot. He’d gotten really good at hiding his misery every time JFK brought up some random girl he’d gotten the hots for. Every time they were some special, radiant goddess until JFK finally bedded them. Then it was onto the next girl. All the while Ponce stood on the sidelines waiting for that perfect minute to drop the whole ‘so I’ve been in love with you since we were 13’ bomb on him. And how fun was that conversation going to be? The odds weren’t stacked in the greaser’s favour so he just bit his tongue and waited. “Sorry, can’t go out with you. I gotta go. Talk to you later man.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and started the walk to where he’d parked his motorcycle. Ponce looked back over his shoulder to see JFK grinning that happy little grin of his and waving, “See you around!”

~~~

He flipped the car. According to Cleo and other witnesses to the scene one minute JFK was cruising along down the road without a care in the world, the next minute the car was on its roof and they could hear Jack screaming. Having tendency for the overdramatic, everyone just assumed that he was fine and waited for Abe to finish up the race. Except JFK wasn’t fine. When people finally got around to trying to pull him out of the car they found him a bloody, mangled mess whose screams of pain and for help had gone on for so long with no avail that his voice had actually gone hoarse and it pained him to talk. He was rushed to the hospital and bystanders began the challenging task of getting ahold of all the boy’s friends and relatives. Somehow in the confusion everyone had overlooked JFK’s best friend. 

Wally and Carl met their son at the hospital with some of the boy’s friends who had been at the accident. Cleo pushed her date with Abe back and hovered close to her ex. Boyfriend’s family, along with Catherine, Caesar, and a few other members of the basketball & track and field teams. It wasn’t until JFK had been cleaned up and was on a gurney being rushed to the OR that Ponce’s name was even brought up. The presidential clone himself managed through the haze of pain and anesthetic to cough out his bestfriend’s name and Cleo promised to make the call and get him to the hospital as soon as possible. When Ponce saw who was calling and sent it to voicemail. He needed to get that paper done for Monday’s class and he was already far behind. Whatever nonsense happened at the race, Jack could wait until later to tell him. 

Jack died about twenty minutes after being taken into the operating room. The last words his friends, his family, and medical staff heard him say and it was the boy asking where his best friend was. Meanwhile Ponce finished typing his final draft and checked the messages on his phone. By the time he heard that his friend had been in a car accident, may not make it through the day, and was asking for him it had been over an hour since JFK was first brought into emergency care. Ponce didn’t stop to tell his dad where he was going. He was off like a light, sprinting downstairs and out the front door, hoping and praying to God that he’d make it in time. But he didn’t. The body had already started to go cold by the time Ponce arrived at the hospital. 

~~~

Ponce and the basketball team served as pole bearers and hadn’t that been an experience. Half way to the gravesite and Abe started mumbling about the date he scored with Cleo. The date that JFK had died for it. It took strength that Ponce didn’t even know he had not to turn around and punch Lincoln in the face. But if he did that, the greaser told himself in his head, he’d have to let go of the casket and then it would fall. He could worry about what other people were saying about the deceased later. Right now the only thing that mattered was Jack. 

He did, in fact, end up punching Abe Lincoln in the face but that occurred a few days after the funeral. Everyone returned to class and tried to carry on like life was normal. Ponce couldn’t get back into the routine. He’d show up for a class, notice his friend’s empty desk, have his daily realization that JFK would never sit there again, and spend the rest of class as a swirling black hole of anger and depression. In one of those classes, chemistry with Mr. Bohr (Mista Bohr-ing as JFK would say), Ponce had the unfortunate pleasure of sitting behind Abe and Joan. With JFK gone there was an odd number of students in the class and the greaser was out one lab partner, so Mr. Bohr forced him to group up with the two knuckleheads sitting before him. Most of the class Ponce was able to just zone out but then he heard Joan mention his best friend’s name and he perked up. 

“-Yeah. It’s weird without him. Quieter.” Abe said without looking up from his chemistry book. They were supposed to be mixing chemicals together to create a reaction. Instead everyone was gossiping. 

“Quieter?” Joan asked pouring a fan of salt into their beaker. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I just mean that with him gone there’s a lot less chaotic randomness happening in the halls between classes.” And explained. “And his absence has left a power vacuum with the ladies. Even Ghengis Khan has a date.”

Ponce grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists under his desk. Just a few more minutes and class would be over. If he could make it to lunch he’d be okay. Luckily he wasn’t the only one who found this appalling. Joan looked at her friend anxiously, “Abe I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“I’m not implying anything. Don’t get me wrong, he shouldn’t have died like that, but you can’t deny that his absence has some unforeseeable perks. Hell, with him gone everyone’s moved up a notch on the coolness scale! By this time next year, I may even be the popular one!”

That was enough! Ponce jumped up from his seat and lunges over the desk, tackling the taller boy to the floor. Both Joan and Abe screamed, the later as he was pinned to the ground and the former as she fell back to get out of Ponce’s way. Ponce didn’t even register what he’d just done, what he was about to do. He lined up his hand and socked Lincoln square in the nose and kept punching him until he heard a crunch, followed by a whimper from the other boy as blood spurted down his face. “Is that all you can think about?” Ponce screamed. “He died! His life over! We’ll never get to see him, get to hear his voice again, and all you can think about is being popular?”

“P-Ponce-!”

Someone was calling for him but Ponce couldn’t hear it. He grabbed a hold of the collar of Abe’s shirt and pulled him up so they were at eye-level. “You ever even think of that shit again and I’ll make sure they’re burying you next! And I can promise you that your funeral will not have a quarter as many people there as Jack did! Just your parents, and Joan, and Ghandi because they’re the only people in this god forsaken town that give two shits about you, you self-cantered, egomaniacal, lanky, idiotic, chauvinist, sociopathic excuse for a person!”

He let go and Abe slammed back against the floor, crying and panting, his hands going up lightly graze his broken nose. Ponce stood up and brushed himself off. There were some small splatters of blood on his jacket but he could wash them off later. 

“Mr De Leon!” Mr. Bohr shouted from across the room. “That is unacceptable behaviour-“

Well Ponce certainly hoped so. He walked towards the door, and took the time to flip his teacher off on the way out. “I know, I know. I’m fucking going.” 

~~~

Out of some combination of decent-enough behaviour and luck Ponce had always been able to avoid being sent to Skudworth’s office before. Given the principal’s intense, and public, hatred for his foster father it just seemed like the smart thing to do. This time though Ponce didn’t avoid his fate. He walked into Skudworth’s office without hesitation and took a seat in the ugly little chair he’d set up across from his desk. Mr. Butlertron wasn’t in the office, most likely making lunch for his employer, but Skudworth was there doing his usual thing of sitting in his fancy, Bond villain-esq chair and kneading his fingers together. “Hello Ponce. So we’ve had a bit of a scrap did we?” Skudworth said. “I’m saying we but referring to you. And I’m speaking quizzically despite already knowing the truth. Yes you did.” 

“Lincoln was running his mouth, speaking ill of the dead, Sir.” Ponce explained. It was pointless though. Anytime a student acted up they were sent to the death maze. It had been awhile since Ponce had been in there. He allowed himself, briefly, to wonder if they ever replaced the sharks in the main moat with piranhas as Skudworth had been planning to. “Did he tell you that part? Or was he worried that it would damage his popular reputation?”

“This is about JFK, isn’t it?” Skudworth said with a frown. “I miss him too, you know?”

“Really?” Ponce asked. He, and literally every other student in school, thought their principal incapable of feeling human emotions like love and grief. “I thought the only other person in school you cared about was Mr. Butlertron.” 

“No. In fact, JFK was my favorite student. Charming, athletic, good at taking tests...he was a principal’s dream!...You’re somewhere around the 15 to 20 range on the list. The pants, the janitor father, and the motorcycle don’t help.”

“Gee thanks.” As insulting as it was to only rank somewhere in the late teens in a class of about 60-75 students, it felt good to be finally able to talk to someone about JFK. Even if it was the psychopathic principal of their high school. “I just miss him so much. It feels like I don’t have anyone to talk to anymore, like I can’t enjoy anything because then it feels like I’m forgetting him! We told each other everything- You know that he loved space? He loved it. He wanted...he wanted to be an astronaut...”

“...An astronaut...” Skudworth repeated. The principal turned for a second so Ponce couldn’t see his face but heard the older man inhale a sharp breath and see him wiping at his eyes. Was he...was Skudworth actually crying? Ponce was about to ask if he was alright when Skudworth spun his chair back around, seemingly fine. “He always aimed high.”

“There was only thing I didn’t tell him because I thought it would ruin our friendship,” Ponce said. Why not? He was already baring his soul to ducking Skudworth of all people. Why not tell him that he was hopelessly in love with his best friend? The greaser needed to tell somebody and JFK wasn’t an option anymore. “I didn’t tell him I was in love with him.”

“Oh no.”

“We could have been unstoppable together. If he had asked, I would have gladly forsaken this world for Mars or Pluto or beyond. I would have followed him to the very recesses of this galaxy and the next.” Ponce looked down at himself, at his arms, and a dark idea popped into his mind. “...maybe I still can...”

“No.” Skudworth interrupted him. “You cannot.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do-“

“Young man, JFK will wait for you. He’s not going anywhere. In the meantime you have to explore the rest of this world, for him.” He had to live for Jack. To see the things Jackie-boy hadn’t gotten to see. Senior prom, college, trips around the world. If Ponce didn’t live for him, then it was almost like JFK was dying again. “What would JFK say if he heard you say that.”

An image formed in the greaser’s mind of his best friend, grief stricken and sobbing into his hands over the news that Ponce had died. For the second time in a matter of weeks, Ponce could feel his heart shattering to bits inside his chest. “Jackie-boy...” 

“People will tell you to move on. That someday you’ll wake up and it’ll be as though JFK never existed.” Said Skudworth and the mad scientist practically growled. “Those people are liars. And you tell them that. Right to their faces. When you loose someone you never truly move on and you never forget. You just learn to live with the pain that settles inside your heart. So one day, very soon, this will all be bearable. But you’ll still miss him. And you always will.”

When this day had begun Ponce could have never foreseen something like this happening to him. And they said high school didn’t teach you anything. “Thank you, Principal Skudworth.” He said slowly and, for the first time since he’d heard that his best friend was dead, tears started to well up in Ponce’s eyes. He hadn’t allowed himself to cry the entire time. “So...the death maze then?”

“No. Given the circumstances, why don’t you just go home and get some rest. Half days have to be good for something.” 

Ponce nodded a thanks and slowly got up from his chair and exited the office. After the teen had left Skudworth allowed the fam to break. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he thought about his fallen student, his _favourite_ student , the only one he’d managed to make to the board of shadowy figures specifications. He sighed and wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his lab coat. Behind him he heard Mr. B’s door open and the robotic butler rolled in carrying his munch on stray, “You were awfully nice to that boy.”

“Yes.” Skudworth agreed. It wasn’t like him to be supportive or even remotely helpful to the students. But that would have to change. Mr. Butlertron set lunch down on Skudworth’s desk and the scientist continued. “Mr B I have a job for you.”

“What’s that?” Mr. B asked

“I need you to get the Cloney Island files and put them through the shredder. I have a new evil plan.”

“A new plan?”

“Yes. An evil plan to steal the clones away from the shadowy figures and set them all free. To live like real people in the real world.” Skudworth explained with a renewed sense of vigor, of purpose, that he’d hadn’t felt in years. Not since he was first hired for such a crucial and confidential project. “No student at this school is going to be forced to be a solider as long as I’m around. No, they’ll finally be free to do as they choose. To be lawyers, and doctors, actors, journalists, and astronauts.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the most fun writing this.


	4. Prompt 4: Health Class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am dragging my ass on writing bay nsfw but here’s a ridiculous story about JFK being dramatic and ruining Abe’s chance of getting an A in health.

Though it wasn’t a mandatory requirement in order to graduate most of the students at Clone High took the health and family course with long suffering teacher Mr. Sheepman sometime in their senior year. It was bird course. You went in, goofed off, and still got the extra credit. It was the easiest way to boost your GPA and the only really difficult thing you had to do was sit through the birthing video. Luckily Mr. Sheepman always planned it out so that the video would be played on the first Monday after the unit covering pregnancy and parenthood so most students were able to miss it. JFK, through a series of unfortunate events, mixed up the date however and ended up being one of the only students in class to watch. If he had been dating a girl before seeing that video, instead of Ponce, he would have broken up with her for that reason alone.

Ponce and him always sat at the back of the class where they could get away with goofing off while Mr. Sheepman went on and on about STDs and mortgages. Cleo and Catherine sat in front of them so they could all chat and gossip together. Catherine’s favorite thing to rag on was Abe Lincoln who, despite being nearly 6’5 and the tallest student in school, always sat in the front so that no one behind him could see. It wasn’t much but the class was starting to grow on JFK. It was just another hour that he could spend socializing. 

Until Mr. Sheepman announced the final project and revealed that instead of allowing his students to partner up, he’d be putting them in groups. 

Once two students would pair up and they would pretend to be married and use their knowledge gained in the class to plan their lives together. They’d pick careers, houses, plan families, draw up budgets, etc and then present their reports to the front of the class. Nothing extremely difficult but everyone knew the horror that came with getting paired with someone you didn’t like; only know you had to pretend to be in love with them. JFK crossed his fingers and prayed to whatever god would listen that he got Ponce. Ponce, Cleo, Joan, Catherine, anybody he could work with but mostly just Ponce! 

“Smith and Curie. Van Gogh and The Great. Cristo and Carver. De Leon and-“ There was a slight pause as Sheepman felt around in the hat he’d been using to draw names for another piece of paper. “Of Arc.”

JFK (loudly) groaned and slammed his head into the desk. There went his chance to goof off with his boyfriend for most of the assignment. Joan looked back, having heard the noise all the way from the front of the room, and Ponce gave her a small but reassuring smile. She rolled her eyes and turned back around as Ponce placed a comforting hand on JFK’s shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be okay.” He whispered. “You’ll probably end up with Caesar or one of the Brontes-“

Mr Sheepman pulled another two slips of paper out of the hat, “Kennedy and Lincoln.”

“Ah great.” JFK groaned again and buried his head in his hands. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Lincoln-wait. Yes it was. He didn’t like Lincoln. In all the years he’d known him Abe Lincoln was a self-cantered tool who took no time to get to know Jack or his friends yet constantly ragged on them for just being themselves (IE: not like him) and now he had to be married to the guy?! The presidential clone shuddered at the thought. 

Ponce, though trying to be supportive, winced at the idea of his boyfriend being in any relationship with Abe that was ‘rivals’ or ‘enemies’. Still he tried to lighten the mood, “Hey cheer up. It may not be that bad.”

“It’ll be bad Poncey.” JFK replied without looking up from his desk. “This is gonna be a shit-show.”

~~~

The class separated into the groups and work on the project commenced. JFK watched in silence for a few minutes as Abe, making no attempt to talk to him, went about sorting their materials into neat little piles. With nothing else to do JFK stood up and crept over to the back of the room where Joan and Ponce were flipping through the booklet of questions and scenarios that Mr. Sheepman had handed out and scribbling notes. He pulled a seat up to their desk and sat down, “Hey. How’s the happy couple?”

“Decent enough. We’re at the part where you decide about children.” Joan replied and showed Jack the part of the booklet that they were at. Both Ponce and Joan had a tendency to overachieve when it came to school work so JFK wasn’t the least bit surprised that they were almost done after what had only been about ten minutes. “I don’t like how it’s mandatory that you have to have at least one.”

“Me neither. Just put one and maybe we could create some elaborate story about fostering an older kid or something.” Ponce suggested. 

“Smart.” Joan said and scribbled something about fostering a teenager down in their notes. 

JFK was about to ask, teasingly but with an undercurrent of genuine curiosity, if this meant that Ponce did not want children when he got older when a firm hand gripped his shoulder. He turned back to see Abe standing there not looking too happy about the present situation. “Hey.” Lincoln said. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean what am I doing?” JFK asked. “I’m talking to my friends.”

“I see.” Abe looked between the other couple sitting there but his stoic facade didn’t break. “Ponce. Joan.”

“Abe.” Ponce said with a nod. “What’s up?”

“Just coming to see why my spouse left me alone to handle our project.” Lincoln explained and JFK was hauled up out of his chair and drug back over to the desk that Lincoln had taken over. “Come on, we have work left.”

~~~

Abe insisted on writing everything down. That wouldn’t have been a problem if he had bothered to actually listen to what JFK had to say or wrote any of his suggestions down. 

“So we need to decide career paths. Naturally I’m going to go into politics. I mean, duh.” Abe said after flipping open the first page of the booklet. He scribbled his answer down without even looking at his partner. However the talk of future careers was enough to perk the other boy up. Being the only kid in class with an interest in space, it wasn’t often he got to talk about his future career plans with NASA. “Well I want to-“

Lincoln kept his head down and scribbled something next to JFK’s name. “Stay home. That’s cool. I’ll put stay at home parent in here.”

“No I want-“ JFK paused. Something about that statement didn’t make sense. “Parent?”

“Yeah. We need at least one kid and since we’re going to have three you may as well stay home with them.”

“Three?” Jack repeated. Did Lincoln not understand that this part of the assignment was related to the early, formative years of a marriage? Ponce and Joan hadn’t even mentioned kids until they got to page 5. “Look I’m all for having kids but that seems like a lot to have right after getting married...”

Abe brushes him off and continued scribbling down notes. “Now we need to figure out where we can all live. The place needs at least three rooms if we can make Abe Jr and David share a room-“

“Wait the kids have names now?”

“Well we cant have them wander around namelessly can we?” Abe asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I always loved that older house over on second street. We should see about moving in there.”

“Lincoln I don’t want to stay in Exclamation.”

“Well all our family and friends are here so it just makes sense to stay and give our children the happy childhood they deserve. When they all go to college, Abe Jr into politics like me, David into med. school, and Mary into law, then we can talk about moving further south.”

By this point JFK was starting to get annoyed. He balled his hands into fists under the desk where Lincoln couldn’t see them and gritted his teeth together. “I want California.” He announced. “New York, Miami, Houston even, but you cannot move me elsewhere.”

Abe sighed dramatically and turned to the next page in the booklet. “Jesus JFK you’re not a very supportive husband are you?” 

~~~

A week later JFK and Lincoln sat side by side at the desk in the front of the class, waiting for their turn to go up and present their married life to their fellow students. Some, like Carver and Cristo, played it safe and described a normal life in the suburbs; others like Cleo and Marie Curie plotter out a lavish life on broadway while living in a modern penthouse with stylish children (they seemed happy describing their fashion-forward lifestyle so JFK didn’t question it); and Joan and Ponce talked about the progressive, alternative relationship they would have. Being a supportive boyfriend, JFK clapped at the end of their presentation while Abe just rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath about how weird they were being. And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was one thing to annoy the shit out of JFK during a project, it was another to rag on Ponce De Leon the love of his life and Joan of Arc who JFK was indifferent to but appreciated. 

And he knew just how to get Lincoln back...

They were called up to present after Ponce and Joan sat back down. Lincoln swaggered up to the front with unearned confidence, sure that he had compiled the perfect life for himself. JFK followed with a devious smirk. This was going to be fun. 

Lincoln didn’t wait for JFK to get into position before opening his mouth and starting to speak, “So planning our future together wasn’t that difficult to do. Turns out we have a lot of common interests-“

“No we don’t.” JFK interrupted but he was once again overlooked and ignored. Lincoln continued, just as his partner had hoped he would, 

“Like we both want lots of kids-“

JFK slid forward so he was directly in front of Abe and pointed an accusing finger up at the gangly moron. “You’re not their father.” The presidential clone snapped. 

“And-“ Lincoln tried to continue before JFK’s words sank in. He raised an eyebrow at the other boy standing before him. “I....what?”

“I’ve been cheating on you through this whole marriage you self-absorbed nutjob! They ain’t your kids!” Behind him JFK could hear several students gasp. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mr. Sheepman looking absolutely mortified. How many years had he been teaching this course and it never managed to fall into Jerry Springer show territory until now. Well if Lincoln and Sheepman wanted to see what family life was like, JFK would give them family life!

Lincoln laughed nervously and tried to silence the other boy by nudging him behind him. “We adopted them...”

“Yeah but they still ain’t yours.” JFK shouted and ducked out of Lincoln’s way. He would not be silenced. “What did you think I did around the house all day while you were out travelling and campaigning? I had to find something or someone to do!”

Mr Sheepman tisked and clutched the clipboard he had been using to fill out everyone’s grade forms close to his chest. “That’s hurtful.”

Lincoln scowled and leaned down so he and JFK were at eye level. The so-called pacifist snarled in the other boy’s face, “Who is he!? Who’s this home wrecker?!”

If Abe thought he was being intimidating, he thought wrong. JFK wasn’t backing down just yet. It was time to name drop. “He and his wife are more supportive lovers than you’ll ever be! I’m taking the kids and staying with them!”

“You can leave but you can’t take the kids-“ Abe hissed. 

“Just watch me.”

“I want a divorce!” 

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve suggested through this whole damn marriage!” JFK fired back and started the long, beautiful walk to the back of the room with his head held high. He grabbed an empty seat, pulled it over to Ponce and Joan’s desk, and quite proudly sat down among his fictional lovers (one of which just so happened to be his real lover). “Papers are already signed and on your desk! Enjoy the south!”

“Ponce? Joan? How could you?!”

“Eh.” Joan, who had not been apart of JFK’s plan, shrugged and wrapped an arm around both of her fictional beaus’ shoulders, pulling them closer and posing as a real G. “We’ll move somewhere they allow polygamy.” 

Ponce, who had also been unaware of JFK’s plan but he had seen his devious smirk from the back of the room and knew it meant trouble, grinned at the sudden realization that he now had both a fictional wife and a partially-fictional, partially-real lover and had been apart of breaking up an unhealthy marriage. If the scenario had been real, it would have been quite the scandal, and both he and joan would have made international news for seducing the spouse of a politician. “Sweet.” 

Mr Sheepman sat down behind his desk and banged his head off the oak. There were days he really fucking hated these kids. “This is ridiculous.”

Next year JFK heard through the grapevine that Mr. Sheepman replaced the final project with a surprise viewing of the birthing video. Somehow it was more appealing than the prospect of marrying Abe Lincoln.


	5. Prompt 5: Babysitter AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW ahead. Also another heads up, I’m not used to writing a lot of sex scenes so I’m not sure how good this is. Oh well. Take it or leave it I guess and thanks for reading. 
> 
> Oh and just to be clear, this is an AU where there’s no clones and everyone is just regular teens. Mostly because I love those awkward first encounters.

Normally this wasn’t how JFK liked to spend his Saturday nights. The weekends were for parties, for clubbing, for hanging out with his friends, for banging whatever girl he was saying at that time. Saturdays weren’t made to be wasted and yet there he was, standing on some stranger’s porch, waiting to be let into the house, about spend the next couple hours ‘partying’ with an unfamiliar child. If society hadn’t normalized babysitting, it would be weird and possibly criminal to think about. Whatever. It wasn’t like he had plans this particular weekend anyway. And he could use the spare scratch. It wasn’t like he was necessarily bad with kids either, it was just that the boy felt he had better uses for his time. But it was only for one night. He could pull through it for one evening. An older man, possibly in his late forties, answer the door and held his hand out for JFK to shake. JFK smiled and shook his hand “Hey...Uh...Is this the Matthews place?”

“Yeah, come on in.” The man said and stepped out of the way so Jack could come inside. “You must be John.”

“Yea,” JFK replied. “You can call me JFK though. Or Jack. Everyone flip flops on what to call me.” 

Mr. Matthews nodded, “Alrighty. So I’m going be back around midnight. Kady’s just in the living room playing, there’s some money for pizza on the counter in the kitchen-Oh! My son will probably be back soon. He had plans tonight but you know how kids are. They say they’ll be back by eleven, next thing you know they’re getting in and it’s 2am.”

“Sounds good.” Jack replied. A nice quiet evening was just what he needed to get his mind of Cleo and her new squeeze. Though he still couldn’t believe that she, a 10 on the hotness scale, would leave him, an 11, for a 1.2 like Lincoln. He stood in the doorway, waving as Mr. Matthews left. “Have a good night Mr. Matthews.”

~~~~

The night was uneventful. Kady was a sweet enough little kid but after the pizza arrived and they’d chowed down, she started to yawn every couple of minutes, and finally decided to call it a night around 8:30 leaving Jack to his own devices. He grabbed a couple extra slices of pizza and made himself at home in the living room. Nothing good was on but at least the Matthews had cable so Jack was able to flip between reruns of old classics and one of those cheesy, made for tv pornos. A couple minutes before the clock turned nine, the front door opened, and Jack scrambled to flip back to the episode of  Three’s Company he had been glancing at. Instead of Mr. Matthews though, a teenage boy with a pompadour, a leather jacket, and parachute pants entered the house. Jack watched from the safety of the couch as the other boy closed the door behind him and called out, “Hey, Kady I’m-...” he finally turned and saw Jack sitting there watching him. The boy froze and Jack struggled not to laugh at this guy who looked like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Hey.” JFK said, offering him a friendly wave to show that he came in peace. This had to be the Matthews’ boy. Either that or this kid had the wrong house. Either way JFK was going to get a kick out of his sudden presence. 

“Hey.” The greaser replied. “Who are you?”

“I’m Jack. Your dad asked me to come and watch Kady while you were out.” 

The other boy groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “I told him I’d be back by 9.” He mumbled. “...I’m Ponce, by the way.”

“Sup?” Jack asked. “Want some pizza?”

Ponce sighed and nodded his head, “Yeah...yeah I would. It’s been a rough night.” 

“What happened?” Jack asked. “Do you wanna to talk about it?”

“Eh. I had a date. Didn’t go the way I planned. Yet another reason why I shouldn’t be using Grindr.”

“What? You were banking on getting a bit of action?” That was the only reason JFK still had a Grindr had account himself, though he hadn’t used it since he started dating Cleo. Huh...maybe it was time to check it out again. He could use a decent roll in the sack. “Tough break man. If it makes you feel any better I’m in a similar boat. My girlfriend broke up with me a couple days ago. Otherwise I’d be dick deep in some tail right now.” 

“Shit.” Said Ponce. He dropped down beside Jack on the couch and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. Jack inched over to give him some extra room but they were still sitting thigh to thigh. “What happened? You seem like a...like a decent enough guy.” 

Jack noticed that Ponce was looking him up and down but decided not to address it. Being incredibly good looking, he was used to getting checked out. Plus the greaser wasn’t that bad looking himself. “I don’t know. Shit just happens I guess.” JFK replied. “Oh well. It gives me a chance to get back into babysitting. I used to do it all the time for spare change when I was 14 and was missing hanging out with kids.”

“That’s sweet.” Ponce said and then, as if he had just remembered that he had a sister, asked, “Where’s Kady?” 

Okay, so brother of the year he was not. He was still cute. “Asleep.” JFK explained. “She crashed after finishing dinner. So it’s just been me and the tv.” 

“Anything good on?” 

“No. Just been watching cable porn. Flipping between that and Three’s Company. It’s pretty hot though.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the deal?”

“Some hot babysitter getting plowed by the kid’s older brother while the dad is out...” 

It hadn’t occurred to Jack until that point how that could be perceived as awkward. He could practically feel the colour rushing to his face and ducked his head so that Ponce wouldn’t notice him blushing. Beside him the greaser went stiff and coughed awkwardly, “Huh.” He said softly. “...That _is_ hot .” 

JFK risked it and glanced back up at the other boy. He was relieved to see that there was a faint flush of pink across Ponce’s cheeks too. How cute. “Yeah...” Jack said slowly. “You uh....you wanna watch it with me?”

~~~

Ponce was only a couple inches shorter than JFK. Not normally a big deal but when you were attempting to ride someone, it was just a lot easier when they were bigger than you. Jack wasn’t complaining though. What he lacked in height, Ponce more than made up for with the length and thickness of his cock. JFK rolled his hips down to meet in time with Ponce’s thrusts and his eyes nearly rolled back into his head. “Holy shit.” He groaned. “Holy shit.” 

“Ah fuck.” The greaser held onto the other boy’s hips, his nails digging into him, and quickened the pace of his thrusts. The head of his cock pressed against his prostate, sending shockwaves of pleasure shooting pulsing through Jack. 

“Ah...”

There was a knock on Ponce’s bedroom door and for a second JFK thought that Mr. Matthews had come home early and caught them. He froze but Ponce continued to move inside him, hitting that spot that made his toes curl and causing JFK to involuntarily moan. He placed his hands over his mouth to avoid making any more noise. There was another knock and a voice, distinctly feminine and very much not that of Mr. Matthews asked, “Ponce? Ponce is that you? What’s that sound?”

Ponce grit his teeth together but didn’t stop. “Go back to sleep Kady.” He called out to his sister, hoping that she would pick up the sense of urgency in his voice and leave without further questions. He was wrong. 

“What’s that sound?” Kady asked and tried to open her brother’s bedroom door. They were lucky that Ponce had remembered to lock it or else any chance JFK had of babysitting again in the future would be out the window and he’d become known as that guy who lived out an actual porno-plot line that neglected his charge in favour of fucking he big brother. That would be a hard situation to talk his way out of...

“I said go to sleep!” Ponce snapped and the knocking stopped. Jack paid careful attention, only allowing himself to relax when he heard the pattern of Kady’s bare feet walking back up the hall, followed by the slamming of her bedroom door. That was a close one. With that little problem out of the way, he focused his attention back on the other boy beneath him and started to rock his hips again. Jack placed one hand on Ponce’s lower abdomen to steady himself, and wrapped the other around his leaking cock. “Oh god...”

“Hey,” Ponce mumbled and gently batted Jack’s hand away. The second JFK let go, Ponce replaced it with his own. “I got you.”

Ponce’s hand was tougher than Jack’s; the result of years of maintaining his motorcycle and working on other vehicles. Something about the roughness of it moving on his cock was driving JFK closer and closer to the edge. He could feel a familiar pool of heat gathering in his stomach and knew it was only a matter of time. “Ah!” Jack moaned and threw his head back as he came, shuddering as jolts of pleasure overcame him. “Oh fuck...”

Feeling the sudden tightness of the other boy inadvertently clenching around him and seeing Jack’s face twist up in pleasure proved to be too much for Ponce. A couple more thrusts and he was screaming Jack’s name as he came. They stayed in place for a while as they both came down from their orgasms. Ponce made no attempt to push Jack off him, and Jack made no attempt to move either. He sat there, straddling the other boy, and breathing heavily. Ponce was looking up at him with complete and utter devotion. JFK hadn’t noticed before now but Ponce had the softest pair hazel eyes he’d ever seen. They were beautiful. 

“Christ...” Ponce mumbled and wiped his hand off on the corner of the mattress. “You good?”

“I’m good.” JFK replied. If that wasn’t the understatement of the century. He cast a quick glance over at the door, then back down at the other boy beneath his thighs. “You gonna to go see what your sista wanted?”

“Nah. She’ll be fine.” Ponce replied. His hand, the one that had been holding onto the other boy for dear life throughout their romp, slid up and down JFK’s side as if he couldn’t believe that Jack was real and what they’d done had really happened. “Damn you’re fine.”

“Right back at ya.” Was it appropriate to give someone finger guns after fucking them? JFK hoped so because that’s what he did. Ponce chuckled and JFK was sure it was one of the most adorable sounds he’d ever heard. This guy, this short, greaser wannabe, was a living ray of sunshine and Jack decided then and there that he’d do whatever he could to stick close to him. “You stick around the house more and I’ll be ova to babysit anytime your dad calls.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ponce replied and he pulled the other boy down for a quick kiss. Maybe this wasn’t love, yet, but it was something and Jack could tell that Ponce (like him) was looking forward to seeing what this was going to be. The kids was brief because while there was nothing more that either boy would do to just stay there in that moment, someone really needed to check on Kady and make sure they hadn’t traumatized the poor child. JFK pulled off and rolled over onto the bed next to his new companion,

“You betta. Especially when your old man is asking how much to tip me.”

Ponce snorted and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood and started to scour the room for his clothes. JFK, in the meantime, enjoyed the view. “Who tips their babysitter?”

“Who fucks them?” Jack asked and laughed at the brief look of panic that flashed across the other boy’s face. “I’m kiddin’ man. Chill out.”

Ponce found his pants they’d tossed in the corner of the room and pulled them on. “Oh, I’ll give you a _tip_ when  I get back.”

Jack had to babysit more often. 


	6. Prompt 6: Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poorly written NSFW ahead.

Summer vacation was something every student looked forward towards and JFK was no exception. Being a rich kid, he never had to worry about finding a summer job and slaving for the man during his break. Instead he got to laze around all day and party all night. It was a teenager’s dream! Three whole months of hanging out with his friends, visiting the beach, going to drive ins, and doing whatever he wanted! Normally, summer seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye but this year it seemed to drag on and the presidential clone knew exactly why that was. There was a certain greaser that was spending the summer outside of Exclamation and summer vacation just wants the same without him.

Ponce had taken a job as a counsellor at some camp over in West Milford. It had been a bump in pay from doing part time work at the mall, and recruiting posters had been plastered around the school in the months leading up to the break. In total ten students from Clone High had landed jobs as counsellors, Ponce included, and they had left via bus to begin counselling training as soon as classes ended. If he had known that Ponce would have gotten the job, JFK would have applied too, but he hadn’t seen the point before. As much as he loved hanging out with kids (being a giant kid himself), the presidential clone just hadn’t seen the point in getting a job, even if it was just for a few months. In hindsight it was a stupid move on his part. Who didn’t want to spend their summer swimming in lakes, canoeing and hiking, eating marshmallows and s’mores, and doing all of it with their best friend turned boyfriend? Next year, JFK decided, he was applying as soon as the camp started hiring. No way he was going to get left behind again!

JFK ended up spending most of his vacation hanging out with Catherine, who had applied to the camp but had been rejected, and Ghandi of all people. The little nerd was beginning to grow on him and the three had managed to form a little triumvirate in the absence of their normal circles of friends over the summer. Though it had been fun, going to dinner, and to the movies, and clubbing, and all, it would have been a lot better if Ponce had been there. 

They talked as often as they could. The camp had rules about phone use to keep children from calling home and whining every couple minutes and Ponce had to call and check in with his dad too. That meant that JFK was expecting a call from the other boy about once every week or so. He usually heard from Ponce on Thursday nights when Joan and Jésus were the ones handling dinner for the campers and the other counsellors were getting things ready for the campfire that night. It wasn’t much but it was comforting to hear the other boy’s voice telling him all about how the morning hike went, or how cold the lake waters were that morning. JFK would give him summaries of movies that Ponce had missed, fill him in on all the drama going on in town and, if it was safe, they’d engage in a little dirty talk over the phone. It was much but somehow JFK managed to get through the summer palming himself through his khakis as his boyfriend rattled off all the things they’d do when he was back in town. 

Camp let out a week before school began but through a series of unfortunate events, JFK didn’t get the chance to meet up with Ponce before the first day back. He’d been partying with Catherine and Ghandi, had a little too much to drink, and missed the final step on Catherine’s back porch. Though nothing was broken, he ended up twisting his ankle pretty bad and had to spend the week bouncing around from doctor to doctor. In all the chaos and, partially because he was still semi-drunk, everyone had forgot to tell Ponce about the entire thing until the week had run out. No big deal. The boys would just see each other before class. 

Catherine gave JFK a ride to school. He couldn’t drive with his ankle still in recovery and he suspected she felt bad about the whole porch thing. They pulled into the school parking lot and JFK couldn’t suppress the joy and excitement at seeing Ponce’s motorcycle already there. Catherine just rolled her eyes at him, “You’re like a giant golden retriever.”

“Does that make you a bitch?” Jack asked and narrowly avoided her half-assed attempt at batting him away. She pulled in beside Cleo’s car and left him in favour of hunting down some more feminine company while JFK sprinted out and began the task of searching through the crowds of retuning students for Ponce. It didn’t take long. Somehow the greaser always managed to stick out like a sore thumb. Grinning JFK ran towards the other boy, who had been talking to Joan and had his back turned, and bear-hugged him from behind. 

“Ponce-O!” JFK shouted, ignoring the ‘yelp’ of surprise that came from the other boy and squeezing him tight. “I missed ya buddy!”

After realizing who it was Ponce started laughing and attempted to reach back and pat the other boy’s back. JFK laughed too and let the shorter boy slip out of his grasp. “Jackie-Boy!” Ponce shouted and spun around so he could finally see his boyfriend’s face after spending months across state. JFK froze and his breath got caught in his throat. His eyes bulged to the size of saucers and his hands started to shake. 

_Ponce had a beard._

Not a full beard, mind you, being a sixteen year old boy. The only kids at Clone High who had full beards by age sixteen had been born with them; the result of genetic meddling in hopes to replicate their clone fathers as early as possible. Ponce had always had stubble, it started coming in when he was about 13, but the greaser had never allowed it to grow out long enough to be considered facial hair. JFK couldn’t take his eyes off it. Sensing that something was up, the grin disappeared from Ponce’s face, “JFK?” The greaser asked. “You alright bro?”

“I er uh....” No. JFK was not alright but how could he explain that to Ponce without sounding weird? “Wha-what’s goin’ on with your...”

“Oh this? I lost my shaving kit when I was at camp and just decided to let it grow out.” The greaser explained. “You like it?”

“Er uh...” JFK looked around as he struggled to find the words to accurately display his feelings. Finding he bone he resorted to his stand-by for awkward situations: turning tail and running as fast as he could toward the school. He shouted back over his shoulder, “I...uh....have to go! I’ll talk to ya later!”

Ponce and Joan watched the presidential clone run away and exchanged looks, “That was weird right?” Ponce asked once JFK had disappeared inside the school. “I can’t tell what’s normal and what isn’t anymore.” 

“That was JFK.” Joan replied and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Next time you think he’s being weird, just remember you’re the one dating him.” 

~~~~

Ponce hadn’t seen JFK all day. They didn’t have many classes in common that year, but in the few that they did JFK went out of his way to avoid his best friend turned lover. As soon as the bell rang, Jack was up and halfway to his next class before Ponce could even stand up. At lunch Ponce spent a good fifteen minutes searching the cafeteria, the library, and the parking lot searching for the presidential clone but to no avail. He ended up spending the rest of his lunch eating with Joan and Ghandi, both of which hadn’t seen JFK since that morning. 

“I just don’t get it. Yesterday Jack was going on and on about how he wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands off me! Now I can’t find him anywhere!” Ponce complained, taking a bite from his cheese sandwich. “This isn’t normal JFK weirdness.”

“Well is there anything that could have scared him away?” Ghandi asked as he polished off his second slice of pineapple pizza. “Hook up with some counsellor babe?”

“Of course not! I don’t get what-“ Nothing has changed between them. The only new thing about Ponce was his not shaving for a couple months. But was that really enough to make JFK freak out and try to avoid him? “Oh.” 

Joan rolled her eyes at the two boys and took a long sip from her water bottle before speaking, “JFK may be a diva but he wouldn’t break up with you over something as stupid as a beard.” She pointed out. “Just give him sometime. Everything will work itself out.”

~~~

Ponce found out later that JFK had gotten a ride home for lunch and had taken his van back to school. He had never been one to obey doctor’s orders. Ponce spotted the familiar orange vehicle after school as he was making his way over to his bike. So Jack was so grossed out by his beard that he’d rather go home at lunch than tell Ponce straight up? That was insulting. Just then the van door slid open and a pair of arms reached out, wrapped around Ponce’s waist, and pulled him screaming and struggling into the van. The door slammed shut behind him and before Ponce could demand to know what was going on, a pair of lips crashed against his own and he was knocked back onto the floor of the van. JFK hovered over him, moaning like a cat in heat into the kiss, and straddling the other boy. He pulled back for air, gasping, and Ponce took the opportunity to push himself back up. “Woah! Take it easy man! If you don’t like the beard I can just-“ 

Jack shut him up with another kiss. His hands tangled in Ponce’s hair and holding tight, he pressed himself against his lover and pulled them both back down onto the floor, this time with Ponce leaning over him. “Don’t you do anything to your beard. Not yet.” JFK warned him when he finally pulled away. He reached up and ran his hand across Ponce’s cheek, lingering over his newly acquired facial hair. “Fuck I’ve been wanting to do this all day...”

“My beard got you that hot and bothered?” Ponce asked. Jack didn’t answer him. The presidential clone just smiled deviously and palmed himself through his khakis. “Hot.”

“Shut up.” JFK replied. “First you leave me alone for so long, then you come home with a sexy beard that makes you look like Tony Stark, and I have to wait all day to have you-“

“My poor baby,” Ponce said cutting the other boy off. He placed his hands on Jack’s thighs and guided them apart, then set his sights on undoing the zipper of Jack’s pants. “I had no idea how much I made you suffer...but don’t worry. I got a plan to make it up to you.” 

Ponce unzipped Jack’s khakis and slid them far enough down his hips that he could work without difficulty. Jack always went commando so they didn’t have to worry about the extra layer. “Shit,” Ponce mumbled after months of celibacy curtesy of summer employment. “I almost forgot how fucking beautiful your cock was. Did you get bigger baby?”

“No,” JFK said with a slight moan as Ponce took him into his hand. “I’ve had an erection since 8:30 this morning. I got blue balls Ponce...”

Ponce shook his head. “You should have told me. We could have snuck off to a closet or something.” It wouldn’t be the first time they’d done something like this on school grounds and it wouldn’t be the last. 

“I got the van.” JFK said with a shrug and Ponce decided he wouldn’t make the other boy wait any longer. He leaned in close and ran his tongue along the length of Jack’s cock, earning a long, breathy moan from his boyfriend. “Oh fuck Ponce...”

The greaser smirked and took the tip of the presidential clone’s cock into his mouth. He swirled it around his tongue, slowly took more and more of Jack into his mouth, and bobbed his head in time with JFK’s short thrusts. “Fuck...!” 

Jack didn’t last as long as he normally would. Spending a whole summer with nothing to keep him ‘company’ but his hand had taken a toll on the clone. The last time he’d gone that long without sex, Jack still slept with a nightlight! Granted he was 13...that summer between middle school and freshman year had been a magical voyage of exploring sexuality. He could feel himself growing close and dared to look down at Ponce at work. His lover was looking up at him, smirking around his cock, and JFK lost it. He dug his hands into Ponce’s hair and came screaming down his lover’s throat. Jack held onto Ponce through his orgasm before finally letting go and tumbling back onto the floor. “Wow Ponce...”

Ponce wiped his mouth off on the sleeve of his jacket and laid down on the floor next to JFK, “Wow yourself.” He replied. “So I take it you like the beard?” 


	7. Prompt 7: Soulmate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off the soulmate au where the world is black and white until you meet your soulmate, and turns black and white again after they die.
> 
> I feel I kinda phoned it in on this one but whatever. I was excited to write it. May revise it later.

Red was JFK’s favorite colour. It was the first colour he could remember seeing, though he couldn’t remember the exact moment it happened. One minute the world was black and white and he was trying to finger paint a sunset without knowing what yellow and orange were, the next he was living in a rainbow and able to see that he was smearing red across a blank sheet of paper. When he told his dad’s when they came to pick him up from kindergarten he remembered that they seemed sad, but he never understood why until a few years later.

The world was black and white, a grayscale nightmare, until you met your soulmate for the first time. One hello and then the world erupted in vibrant displays of colour. Being so young and unaware, Jack had inadvertently missed his chance at finding his soulmate, at being with the one person who would truly understand and love him entirely. Or did he? All the other students in his kindergarten were his fellow clones and he ended up going to high school with all of them. It seemed that all JFK had to do to find his soulmate was hunt down the kids he went to kindergarten with, see who could see in colour, and through the process of elimination he’d find his soulmate. Easy as cake right? Not to mention this gave him an excuse to get around to every girl in school. 

It wasn’t Cleo. She flocked to him because he was popular. He flocked to her because she was gorgeous and because she just so happened to be in the same kindergarten class as him. They went out for about a month and spent the duration of their relationship either fighting or fucking. Cleo brushes him off anytime Jack brought up the subject or colour but he knew that she could see it. One morning they’d been hanging out in her room and she asked him to pass her the coral lipstick. Not knowing the proper shades of pink and proper make-up labels, Jack mistakenly handed her the tube of magenta coloured lip gloss. Cleo rolled her eyes and didn’t bother explaining to him the difference between lip gloss and lipstick. A few days after the make up incident Cleo broke up with him. JFK didn’t know at that point if she was his soulmate or not so it stung deeply. It took him a long time to realize that if all they ever did was fight and have sex, then odds were they weren’t meant to be. 

It wasn’t Catherine. Dating her felt like dating his sister but they managed to make it work for a couple weeks. Granted all they really did in that time was fool around, but it still worked well enough that they were on speaking terms when they split up. Except for the part where she called him Cleo’s name during a passionate make out session one day. That had been really awkward moment between the two. Catherine broke up with him the next day and started dating Cleo shortly after. JFK didn’t really blame her. 

It wasn’t any of the Brontes. After the winter prom and a really awkward attempt at a make out rotation wheel, one of the girls let it slip that none of them saw the world in colour. Luckily the three stooges happened to be passing by and with only a couple of sweetly spoken words, he’d fixed the two trios up on a date. JFK spent the rest of the prom spiking the punch, bouncing from single girl to single girl, before finally going to see where Joan had wandered off to. 

It wasn’t Marie. JFK asked her straight out hoping that his change in tactic would provide better results. Marie was a nice girl, smart and independent, the best dancer in school, being her soulmate may even be a good influence on him and boost his grades. Marie just smiled sadly and admitted that she had started to see colour after joining the dance squad in freshman year. Ghandi had been holding auditions and at first she had been the only one to show up. The scientist clone had been making not-so-subtle passes at the boy ever since. JFK smiled back and wished her the best. Afterwards when they passed each other in the hall, the pair gave each other knowing smiles. JFK heard not long after his talk with Marie, she’d finally asked the little nerd out. They made a strangely cute couple. 

It wasn’t Marilyn. Turns out she was a year younger than JFK and wasn’t even in his kindergarten class. He figured this out a few weeks into dating her. One night after fooling around he got up to use the bathroom and passed a picture of her graduating from elementary school. When he didn’t see his own face or the faces of his closest friends it became all too clear. JFK brought it up to her and Marilyn admitted that she still saw the world in black, white, and grey. They broke up not long after that. 

It wasn’t Helen of Troy. Helen was polite enough when he asked her if she wanted to come with him to Catherine’s sweet sixteen but was adamant in her no. She told JFK that yes, she could see colour, but that it had only happened a year ago and she knew exactly who her soulmate was. She was a sweet enough girl, incredibly shy though, so JFK just smiled and said he was happy for her before moving on. Who was he to meddle in someone else’s love life?

It wasn’t Marie Antoinette. He asked her to the homecoming prom and she, as politely as she could, explained to him that she wasn’t interested in men. JFK was about to ask her what she meant by that when Helen came along and the two girls started making out by the lockers. That had been clue enough for Jack to realize Marie Antoinette was almost cause. He wished the two a good day and headed off towards the library to search for some fresh tail. 

JFK worked his way through all of the Bettys at Clone High and each time one thing or another ended up proving that they weren’t soulmates, and JFK bounced onto another girl. He’d had the privilege of enjoying the company of dozens of nice girls, pretty girls, independent girls, but none were his soulmate. His soulmate, who would have been a child just like Jack had been when they first met, could only be one of thirty-some people and yet they were beyond illusive. Every day it seemed like more and more of his classmates were pairing up, finding their soulmates and falling in love. And then there was JFK. Poor JFK; he could get his dick wet and was the envy of every loser at Clone High hoping to feel a boob before they turned eighteen, but at the end of the day he was all alone. But maybe he was meant to be alone? All the poor boy knew was how to get people into his bed and fuck them senselessly. He wasn’t capable of showing any emotions besides fear, rage, and lust. Was he really worthy of being in a relationship? Was he capable of being a decent partner? Sometimes he wished he could be like Ponce. His dear, sweet buddy Ponce who didn’t give two shits if he found his soulmate or not. 

Ponce didn’t bother looking for his soulmate but Jack knew that he had met them. Ponce maneuvered the world like a person who could see in colour, who could appreciate the blue of sky or the green of the grass or the vibrant bursts of colours in flowers. Ponce could see the world as the beautiful, wonderful, constantly evolving mirage of rainbows that it was but he didn’t have a soulmate. More than that, Ponce seemed to have no drive to search for his missing love. While JFK was out picking up girls, mingling, partying, searching for the person that triggered his colours, Ponce did his own thing. Sometimes he would tag along with Jack on his escapades but while the presidential clone was out hitting on babes and getting lucky, Ponce was quiet and kept to himself. When he’d talk to the girls it wasn’t like he was trying to pick the up, it was like he was bored. JFK suspected this may have been out of some strange loyalty to his absent soulmate but he had never been bold enough to ask. They didn’t talk about theirmissing soulmates to each other. They just got up and lived in the moment and that was the way JFK liked it. 

He had never been much for change.

Ponce had been waiting for him outside the school with a couple bags of candy to munch on as they killed time before the track-meet that night. Jack had been staying late, talking the time to chat up Susan B. Anthony outside the photography class (another strike out, by the way) so it was a pleasant surprise to see his best friend there waiting for him. The greaser grinned that easy going grin of his and tossed JFK one of the bags, “Hey buddy. Eat up. You’re not going to have time to grab some decent dinner before the meet tonight.”

“Thanks Ponce-o!” Jack said, opening the bag and popping a couple chocolates into his mouth. “What would I do without you?”

“Be hungry.” Ponce replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Walk with me, talk with me dude. There’s some...things I wanted swing by you.” 

Jack popped another candy into his mouth and followed Ponce down off the school steps and onto the main path surrounding the quad. “Sure thing buddy.” 

They walked in comfortable silence around the school for a few minutes, casually popping candy into their mouths and tossing their wrappers aside. Finally Ponce piped up, “So I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About life and stuff.”

Jack grinned and leaning over to nudge his friend playfully, “If by life you mean sex, and by thinking you mean having! Right Ponce-o?”

“Life is short. I mean, there’s no fountain of youth, Jackie-Boy. And I’ve been thinking a lot lately. I’d hate for something to happen where I-...” The greaser paused, trying to think of the proper way to word what he was about to say what he wanted to get out. Whatever this was, Jack could tell it was big. “I don’t want to regret not taking some risks. I want everyone to know how I feel about them.” 

JFK ate another candy, “Feelings are for dames.” He replied. 

“You’re so detached man.” Ponce said sadly, shaking his head. “Look, Jack, I’ve been meaning to talk with you for awhile. Before it’s too late-“

“It is too late! Why are you acting like some sorta sissy?” JFK snapped and jabbed an accusing finger into Ponce’s chest. What was with all this feelings bullshit all of late? The reason he admired Ponce so much was because of how cool and distant he was from that feelings crap! JFK got enough ‘feelings’ trying to hunt down his soulmate, he didn’t need them from his best friend too. “Who are you and what did you do with my friend Ponce?”

“Calm down Jack-“

“I’m always calm!” JFK yelled and threw his empty candy bag onto the ground. He stomped the trash beneath his foot and angrily grunted at the other boy. “ _ **AGH**_!”

Ponce reached into his jacket and pulled out the photo of the two together Catherine had snapped that morning. He crumbled it in his hand and tossed it to the ground, “I hate you JFK.” 

Jack gasped. He knew he had a bad habit of blowing things out of proportion but Ponce had never gotten snappy at him about it before. Ponce had never said that he hated him before and the fury burning in Ponce’s hazel eyes was real and terrifying to him. They’d argued before but never like this. They never got so mad as to say they hated each other. Well JFK wasn’t going to stand for this! Without another word to the greaser Jack stomped off in the direction of the school parking lot. Behind him he could hear Ponce calling out for him but JFK didn’t care. 

“ _Wait! Jackie-Boy! I didn’t mean it_!”

~~~

JFK went straight home after the fight with Ponce. He could afford to miss the track-meet, let some other goober take home the gold medal for once, he just couldn’t risk running into Ponce there. Sure, they’d patch things up, they always did, but right now JFK just wasn’t in the mood for it. He needed some time for himself to just relax and come down from this rage he’d gotten himself into, then he worry about patching things up with Ponce. The presidential clone made himself a tasty sandwich now that he had time for a proper meal, before grabbing a quick shower and returning to his bedroom to play video games for a bit. Midway through a side quest in _Breath of_ _The Wild_ , sprawled across his bed, Jack dozed off. He came to an hour later and nearly flung himself off the bed at what he saw. JFK woke up in a black and white world, devoid of any colour. All the reds, blues, and yellows he’d come to love were drained, faded away into a horrific grayscale nightmare. JFK may have been young, and a bit foolish at times, but he knew what this meant. 

His soulmate had died.

JFK had been too late in his quest to find them. 

The presidential clone sat there, half hanging off his bed in the growing darkness of his bedroom, soaking in the knowledge that his one true love had left him. He’d sleep with other women, he’d date other girls, but they would never make him feel like his soulmate would have. His one chance at true love and happiness vanished while JFK was sleeping peacefully in his bed. Despite his previous claims to Ponce that very day that having feelings was for sissies, Jack could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He didn’t bother trying to hold them back. His love was gone. Why should he try to hold anything back anymore? 

The door to his room opened and JFK looked back to see who was there. He’d been hoping for it to be Ponce finally coming to apologize and make up for their spat, but instead Jack’s foster father stood in the doorway. Seeing his son in tears Wally sighed and placed his hands over his heart, “Oh baby, I guess you heard the news. Poor Ponce. What a way to go. Drowning in his own blood.” 

Jack’s chest hurt. Something twisted inside and he fell to the floor in pain. “.. _wh-What._..?” 

~~~

They found Ponce on the quad, his head in an empty candy bar bag, submerged in a pool of blood and ensnared in trash. The police report said that he’d died around 3:30 that day. Minutes after his fight with JFK. The presidential clone couldn’t contain his misery at learning that it was his litter that killed his best friend, that the last words he’d ever hear from Ponce were “I hate you”, that he’d never hear his soothing, soft, comforting voice again or see the brilliant, shimmering smile. In the same day JFK had lost his soulmate and his best friend. As soon as the realization that he’d lost the two people who could make the presidential clone the happiest hit, the tears came. And they did not stop. JFK attended Ponce’s funeral a blubbering, sobbing mess, barely looking up from his hands to keep back his tears. He sat in front, next to Ponce’s father. The poor janitor patted JFK’s back and tried to tell him how much Jack’s friendship meant to his son but the man’s claims fell on deaf ears. All Jack could do was cry and wallow in his sadness. 

Something deeper between Jack’s fingers. Though it didn’t stop the flow of tears, it caused the boy to look up. He saw red. A brief, fluttering glimmer of red leftover on Ponce’s cheek. But that was impossible. The only way he could see colour after the death of his soulmate was if...

_Oh no._

~~~

Red was JFK’s least favorite colour. Red signified anger and frustration, like the unjustified rage JFK had felt the last time he’d seen Ponce alive. Ponce had drowned in a sea of red, feet away from safety. Jack hated the colour red but in the black and grey world he was forced to inhabit, red was the only real colour he could see. 


	8. Prompt 8: Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ponce is the best boyfriend ever even if his tactics are a little too 1950s. 
> 
> So I started writing this one into getting into a fight myself and once again I am channeling myself through JFK in this. Long story short don’t call people dumb.

JFK stepped out of the front doors to Clone High and made his way down the front steps. He buried his hands deep in the pockets of his pants. The presidential clone stopped when he got to the end of the path leading up the school where he met the road. A familiar greaser was waiting for him, straddling his motorcycle and holding onto an extra helmet. “What are you doing here?” JFK asked, and even he could hear the defeat in his voice which usually dripped with confidence. “It’s four o’clock Ponce.”

“I know. I’ve been waiting for you.” Ponce replied and tossed the other boy the helmet he’d been holding onto. “Hop on.”

JFK caught the helmet but hesitated in putting it on, “What is this?” He asked. 

“Come for a ride with me and see.”

“Ponce-“

“Jack.” Ponce said. He was smiling but there was a firmness in his voice. He wasn’t leaving without JFK. “You trust me?”

“I do but I’m really not in the mood...” Jack admitted, looking down at the helmet in his hands. He looked back up at Ponce who had started up the bike was now waiting on the spot for his boyfriend to join him. Jack sighed and pulled the helmet on. “Alright. Alright! I’m hopping on.” 

Ponce waited until JFK had his helmet on properly and was seated securely on the bike behind him with his arms wrapped tightly around the greaser’s waist before pulling out of the high school parking lot and taking to the road. Despite Jack’s claims of being in a mood, he found himself nuzzling into the other boy’s back, taking in his scent and letting out a small sigh. Without looking back Ponce asked, “You want to tell me what all that business was?” When JFK didn’t answer, Ponce pressed further. “Come on Jackie-Boy, I know you. You don’t go picking fights for no reason. What happened?” 

Jack sighed again and buried his face in the other boy’s back. What was the point in hiding it? The gossip would be all over the school by tomorrow. Everyone would know that JFK freaked out and broke some other kid’s nose. “...It was Newton.” He admitted. “He called me dumb.”

If Ponce hadn’t been so focused on the road, and expecting a response like this, he may have driven them off the road. His grip on the handlebars tightened and he grit his teeth together in a snarl, “He did what? Why would he call you something like that?”

“I don’t know. I just overheard him talking to his buddies and I heard him say it.” JFK explained. “When I told him to take it back, he said to make him so I slugged him one right in the nose. Next thing I know, Isaac’s nose is broken and I’m getting hauled off to the death maze.”

“And Newton?” Ponce asked. “What did they do to Newton?”

That question earned yet another sad, miserable little sigh from the president clone. “Nuffin’. They hauled him off to the hospital to get his snooze fixed and that was the end of it.” 

“Bastard.” Ponce hissed. He’d known JFK long enough to know that his intelligence was a sore subject. Jack was...eccentric. He was a bit loud, rambunctious, a little spacey at times, but JFK was not stupid. For some reason though everyone liked to mistake his big and bold personality for stupidity. “We could always challenge him to a fight when he gets out of school. Me and you versus Isaac and his goons. Kick their asses and make them regret ever even meeting you.” 

“Nah...I’m not in the fighting-mood right now.” JFK replied. He went silent for a second, then quickly followed his comment up with a question. “Do you think I’m dumb?” 

Ponce responded sharply. “You’re not dumb, Bambi, you just have your own way of approaching problems that some people don’t understand.” 

“So I’m a weirdo. Great.” 

“You’re not weird, JFK, and you’re not dumb. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” The greaser replied and saw the exit he wanted to take coming up. He pulled off the main road into a parking lot, found an empty space, and cut the motor. “We’re here.”

JFK looked up as he unbuckled the helmet Ponce had given him. “The planetarium? You took me to the planetarium?” He asked. 

“Yep,” Ponce replied with a grin, taking off his own helmet and dismounting his bike. “Come on. I’ve been meaning to check this place out for years and could use a tour guide.” 

There weren’t many people in Exclamation who understood JFK’s obsession with the stars. There weren’t many people who even knew that it was a passion of his. His foster dads knew, and gave him plenty of space-related gifts over the years from telescopes to books to packages of glow-in-the-dark stars that JFK and Ponce had spent an afternoon hanging over his bed when they were only eight. A few miscellaneous ex-girlfriends (Cleo, Catherine, Marilyn, etc) knew about it but none of them had really cared. They’d nod on and smile when JFK went on little rants about the constellations or recent space missions, but none of them really cared and quickly forgot every word he said to them. After that JFK kept his love of space under wraps. Ponce knew though. Ponce had known about JFK’s love of space since they were children. He took the time to remember the constellations Jack told him about, the names of JFK’s favourite astronauts, and upcoming launch dates and major events. But Ponce had never gone to the planetarium with JFK before. Not out of maliciousness, but by coincidence. It seemed like every time JFK had invited Ponce to tag along, the greaser was either busy with previously made plans or sick. 

Jack could feel the heat rising to his face and he couldn’t fight back a smile, “Ponce.” He said softly. “You’re too much.” 

~~~

For over two hours JFK gave Ponce the grand tour of the Exclamation planetarium. He went into details about the individual stars that made up the different constellations mapped out from room to room; they went down the hall of famous astronauts and listed out their greatest achievements in space exploration; they spent an hour in the amphitheater watching a light show about the space race flash overhead, the lights bouncing off the models of the planets lining the room. Afterwards they just wandered around, JFK pointing out spots of interest and Ponce following close behind him, holding onto his boyfriend’s hand. At one point Ponce excised himself under the guise of needing to use the bathroom and Jack waited for him by the main doors. Ponce reappeared about twenty minutes later, a light blue bag from the gift shop in hand. 

“What’s that?” Jack asked and Ponce handed the bag over to his boyfriend. 

“I got you something.” He explained. JFK reached inside and pulled out something soft. Inside the bag had been a plush of a stereotypical green alien, about the size of an average teddy bear, wearing a little silver NASA jacket with a name sewn into the back. “Cute isn’t he?”

“Adorable.” JFK replied with a smile. He looked the little creature over and chuckled at the name sewn onto his jacket. “Hey, his name says Jack.”

“They have a rack with names on it. Jack is pretty easy.” Ponce admitted. “They never have Ponce.” 

JFK gave the little alien plush a squeeze and felt the softest material he’d felt in his life. “He’s so soft! I love him!” The presidential clone exclaimed. “Thanks Babe.”

“No problem.” Ponce replied, “It’s worth it just to see you smile.”

Jack chuckled again and a soft blush spread across his face, “You’re so gay.”

“I’m your boyfriend. I think I’m allowed to be gay.” 

~~~

Isaac spent the night getting treatment for his broken nose. There were only a handful of doctors in Exclamation so that meant that wait times for everything from check-ups to surgery were absurdly long. His foster mom spent the night waiting with him but they time Isaac had been bandaged up, given a prescription for some pain killers, and the clear to go home, she was exhausted. Isaac dropped her off at home so she could get some sleep and headed over to the nearest pharmacy to get his prescription filled with the intentions of going home straight afterwards to get some sleep himself. He waited thirty minutes for the prescription to be filled, thanked the pharmacist, and excited into the parking lot. Issac started walking towards his car when he got the sense he was being watched. The teen looked back over his shoulder and spotted a familiar face smoking in the alley between the pharmacy and the local dollar store. Between drags from his cigarette, Ponce was staring over at Isaac. “Hey.” The greaser called over to him. “Nice bandage. You finally decide to lob that enormous nose of yours off.”

“Fuck off Ponce.” Isaac shouted back. “That moron JFK just got lucky.”

“Lucky? From what I heard he had you crying on the floor.” Ponce replied coolly and took one last, long drag from his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and stomping it out. “And if you think calling Jack a moron to his boyfriend is a good idea, then you’re the moron.”

Fighting JFK was one thing but fighting Ponce De Leon was another. Feeling bold, Isaac stalked forward so that he and the greaser were face to face. He gave the shorter boy a daring shove back. “Get off it Ponce. Everybody knows you’re a pacifist. That whole greaser look is all talk.” 

Ponce moved quickly. Before Isaac could even blink Ponce’s fist connected with his broken nose and sent him flying to the ground. Blood seeped through his bandages and pain racked through him as Isaac’s trembling hand reached up to feel the damage. The cartilage felt loose and he could feel little bumps beneath the bandage. While he was districted Ponce came back and delivered a strong, swift kick to Isaac’s ribs. The other boy coughed in pain and doubled over but Ponce kept kicking him. Just when Isaac thought he could take it no more, Ponce stopped and leaned in close to his ear, “Tomorrow morning you’re going to apologize to my boy Jack. And then you’re never going to say another word to him. You’re not going to any of his parties, you’re not sitting near him in class, and if you so much as breathe in JFK’s direction again I will cut your fucking nose off and shove it down your throat. Capiche?” 

Isaac coughed his response, “Cap-iche.”

~~~

JFK opened the front door to find Ponce standing there with his hands in the pockets of his jacket and a sheepish smile on his face. “Hey.” The presidential clone said, relieved that the other boy had finally made it. “You’re late.” 

“I’m sorry Bambi, I just had to wrap something up at work.” Ponce explained and leaned forward to kiss JFK’s cheek. He stepped into the living room and Jack shut the door behind him. “What are we watching?”

“ _Lilo and Stitch_.” JFK explained, dropping down onto the couch in front of the tv. Ponce sat down next to him and casually relaxed back into his boyfriend’s side. JFK smiled and wrapped his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders pulling him closer. The little alien Ponce had gotten Jack at the planetarium sat on the coffee table next to the snacks that JFK had laid out for them. As he was flipping through the channels getting everything set up for them, JFK noticed a speck of dried blood on the sleeve of Ponce’s jacket. He decided not to ask about it and put the movie on, leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to the other boy’s lips. “I love you.” 

“Love you too.” 


	9. Prompt 9: Supernatural AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really short and dumb. I was watching What We Do In The Shadows while writing this so that kinda explains everything. 
> 
> JFK was already like a hyperactive puppy, I just ran with it.

The front door to Ponce’s house was blocked by something heavy. He tried opening it but the wood collided with something on the other side and only give him an inch to get out. Ponce frowned, shut the door, and tried again. The door opened enough for him to reach a hand out before being stopped by some heavy object on the other side. Ponce let go of the doorknob, took a couple steps back, and tried ramming into the door. After a couple harsh shoves the object on the other side moved and the door flung open. Ponce stumbles out, tripping over the object previously blocking his door, and fell face first onto the front porch. The greaser groaned, pushed himself back up to his feet, and brushed himself off. Out of the corner of his eye, Ponce saw the object that had been preventing him from exiting the house. “Hey uh....Jackie-boy? Can you come here a second?”

His boyfriend JFK had been spending the weekend at his place while his parents were out of town. Normally JFK would stay home by himself with friends popping in occasionally to hang out but there had been some reports of hunters in the area and his parents were anxious to leave their son by himself. It wasn’t that they were afraid that JFK couldn’t take care of himself, it was just he could be a bit naive at times and hunters were known to be tricky, especially when it came to werewolves. Ponce suggested he spend the weekend with him and while JFK’s parents were sceptical of his motivations at first, the pair came around. 

JFK had been in the kitchen getting something to eat and came into the living room a couple seconds after Ponce had called him, “Sure thing Poncey. What’s up?”

Ponce stepped out of the way of the doorway so JFK could see outside and gestures to the object laying beside him, “What’s this?”

“A deer.” Jack replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Dear.”

“Okay. So now onto my next question: why is there a dead dear on my doorstep?”

“I left it there.” 

“Okay...Why?”

Jack grinned wildly, “Present.” 

“Uh huh.” This wasn’t working. That was going to be the best response the greaser got from his werewolf boyfriend and he knew it. Not wanting to drop the issue of the dead deer entirely, Ponce changed the question. “Okay. So uh...why a deer? I’m just wondering.”

Jack gave Ponce a quizzical look. Sometimes it seemed that he forgot not everybody in town was a werewolf and used to the traditions and rituals he’d grown up with. Normally that meant being aware of when he was getting clingy, making sure he had on pants when one of his friends invited him for a run, leaving the goddamn mailman alone because his family couldn’t take another lawsuit from the post office, so the issue involving the deer was a new one. “Food.” Jack said as if that one word could explain everything. 

“Oh I see.” Ponce said. It was becoming very clear to him. Werewolves felt this strong instinct to provide for their mates (or in this case boyfriend) much like wolves would in the wild. When JFK was out last night, catching himself a meal, it was only natural for him to be reminded of his lover, especially since he was staying with Ponce and his family, and to want to bring something back for him. Unfortunately he’d selected the wrong type of food. Regardless Ponce smiled, wide enough so that JFK could see his fangs and remember what exactly Ponce was and why this wasn’t a useful gift without the greaser having to actually say anything, and stepped in close so that he could peck the other boy on the cheek. “Thank you for the deer, Bambi, but you’re all the venison I need.” 

“You know I don’t like it when you call me that.” Jack said with a sigh and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I _eat_ deer . Last night I ripped a fawn apart and ate it for crying out loud!” 

Ponce kept on smiling and nudged the other boy playfully, “Cute.” 

JFK was unamused, “I am a soulless creature of the er uh night. I am not cute.” 

Jack could be stubborn. Especially when it came to matters relating to his identity. Luckily Ponce had the quick solution to making the werewolf budge on the matter. He took a couple steps back and reached into his jacket pocket. He balled his hand into a fist, grasping nothing, then called out, “Hey Jack!” His boyfriend turned and looked back just in time to see Ponce ‘throw’ something from his jacket. “Fetch!”

Without seeing what it was or where it could have gone, Jack took off like a light, bolting around the front lawn, aimlessly searching for the nothing that Ponce had thrown out for him. He searched intensely under every tree, rock, and bush in his path for ten minutes before Ponce couldn’t hold it in anymore and broke down laughing in doorway. Realizing he had been tricked, JFK straightened himself up, brushed himself off, and headed back up the front porch steps into the house. “...that’s not funny.” 

“I beg to differ.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a supernatural Drabble about a werewolf and a vampire dating, I think I only implied Ponce being a vampire only once or twice? I may go back and redo this later.


	10. Prompt 10: Childhood

Ponce meet JFK in kindergarten. One minute he was on the swings splaying by himself, as usual, the next he was on the ground and two of the bigger kids were looking over him, one of which was now proudly holding onto the swing that had seconds ago belonged to Ponce. He’d been a pretty small kid, soft spoken even then, and that set him apart from the other kids in his class. They thought he was weird and for the most part left him alone. Except when someone like Isaac Newton wanted to push him around. 

Before Ponce could even open his mouth to say anything Newton was tackled to the ground and torn away from his companion still holding onto Ponce’s swing. Another little boy, around Ponce’s age, sat in the middle of Newton’s back furiously hitting him in the back of the head while Newton squirmed and thrashed beneath him. 

“Say uncle!” The boy demanded and he didn’t relent until he heard Newton’s muffled cry of ‘Uncle’. He then slid off the bigger boy’s back and watched with a fiery glare as both Newton and his crony ran away crying. Ponce sat up, half dazed and wondering if that had really happened, when the other boy turned to him and gestured to the now empty swing behind him. “I saw them push you off. It wasn’t fair.” 

“No,” Ponce agreed. He climbed to his feet and brushed some of the dirt off his clothes. “Thank you.”

The other boy grinned and for some reason it reminded Ponce of the sun. The other boy had a gap in his front teeth, big brown eyes, and he radiated warmth. He was wearing a baseball shirt that looked to be about two sizes too big for him that was stained with dirt due to his time rolling around with Isaac. He turned to leave but something inside Ponce screamed at him to stop the other boy from leaving. “Wait!” Ponce called out and the other boy stopped. “Do you want a turn?”

The other boy ducked his head sheepishly. “I don’t know how.” 

“I can give you a push.” Ponce offered and this won the boy over. He nodded and raced over to the swing, and Ponce went behind him to start pushing. “I’m Ponce.” 

“John Fitzgerald Kennedy.” The other boy replied. He scrunched up his nose in disgust. “I hate my name. It’s too long.” 

“You could shorten it. Go by a nickname.” Ponce offered. “Like John or Johnny?”

The other boy just laughed, “John is just so boring. Not like Ponce. Ponce is a cool name.” 

“Yeah but nobody is named Ponce. Just me. You never see any characters in books or movies being called Ponce, and you never mind it on keychains or stuff. There’s always John though.” How many times had Ponce and his father gone into a store, saw a row of mugs or lunch bags with names on the side, only to discover that not one of them had ‘Ponce’ inscribed. But there was always a John. Stable and dependable John. 

John wasn’t so impressed. “I’d rather have no keychains or movie characters than have to go by John.” He said. 

“Have you read Harry Potter?” Ponce asked. “The lady who writes those books goes by the letters of her name instead of her real name. Maybe you could do that?” 

John thought this over, “J...F...K.” He said slowly, mulling the letters over. “JFK?”

“JFK sounds cool.” Ponce replied. “Sometimes people with names like John and Jonathan get called Jack. That’s a cool name too. Like the pirate.” 

John dug his heels into the dirt stopping the swing and looked back over his shoulder at Ponce, “Pirates are the coolest!” 

~~~~

As it turned out a lot of of the other kids were anxious around JFK too. He was ‘too rowdy’, ‘too rambunctious’, and ‘too loud’. To Ponce those just seemed like excuses not to get to know the boy better. They spent the morning playing on the swings, finger-painting, sharing their snacks at lunch time, before returning outside to spend the rest of the afternoon playing. They spent some time on the monkey bars before deciding to go off and cloud gaze in the grass where they wouldn’t be disturbed. Seeing as it was clear skies, the boys quickly turned to a game of questions to pass the time. 

“What’s your favourite sport?” JFK asked. 

“Hockey.” Ponce replied, “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Red.” JFK said. “What’s your favourite animal?”

“Lion.” Said Ponce. “What’s your favourite movie?”

“Treasure Planet.” JFK answered. “What’s your favourite movie?”

“Help! I’m a Fish.” Said Ponce. 

JFK laughed and upon seeing that Ponce wasn’t joking gave the other boy a playful shove, “That’s not a real movie!”

“It totally is!” Ponce explained, “It has the guy from  Die Hard .”

“Favourite show?”

“X-Men! Wolverine is the best superhero!”

“No way! Batman is the best! Have you seen his show?”

“Yeah but I hate Robin. He’s so annoying.” 

“Not as annoying as Cyclops.” 

~~~~

Ponce got picked up a few hours before the other kids. His dad got off work at the same time as the high school students were let out of class, meaning that Ponce could typically expect him around 3:30. Most days he was already playing inside, saw his father coming in, and was ready to go with his lunch bag in hand by the time his father actually made it into the building. Today was different. Ponce spent the rest of the afternoon outside with JFK, laying in the dirt and talking, when he heard his father call out for him from the door to the building. Ponce sat up slowly, “My dad’s here. I have to go now.” He looked back down at JFK and asked, “Do you want to play tomorrow?”

“Yeah!” JFK exclaimed. “I can show you the assault cannon I got for my birthday!”

Understandably Ponce took a cautious step back, “Your what?”

“From American Gladiators!” JFK explained. “Don’t worry, it only fires foam balls.” 

“Oh. Okay!” So it wasn’t an actual weapon. That was a relief. Though he still couldn’t quite grasp what an assault cannon would look like as his father didn’t let him watch American Gladiators. “I know it’s not as cool as anything from American Gladiators but I have a cool Hot Keyz keyboard I can show you.” 

“Sweet!” JFK said and waved eagerly as his new friend started making his way back to the building where his father was waiting, “See you tomorrow!”

~~~~

Ponce couldn’t sleep. He didn’t feel sick, he wasn’t anxious, and he didn’t feel overtly cold or warm. He just couldn’t drift off. The greaser was laying on his back, one arm wrapped around his boyfriend’s shoulders. JFK, for all purposes dead to the world, was sleeping on his stomach and curled around Ponce like he was a life ring on a sinking ship. With his free hand, Ponce was playing with some of JFK’s hair that had come out of place during the night. He wasn’t trying to wake Jack up, Ponce was simply trying to pass the time by watching his boyfriend sleep, but slowly Jack began to stir and sit up in bed. “Hey.” He mumbled noticing that Ponce was awake. “What time is it?”

“3am.” Ponce admitted. “I couldn’t sleep.” 

JFK rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, “You feelin’ okay?” 

“I’m okay.” Ponce replied. He had been thinking. While that hadn’t been enough to keep him awake in the past, it seemedto be more than enough tonight. “You remember how we met?”

“Yeah! Isaac Newton was pickin’ on you and I came over and put a stop to it. Then we spent the day hangin’ out.” JFK said. He started to laugh, remembering what came next. “And the next day I shot you in the face with that stupid er uh assault canon.”

Ponce started to laugh too at the memory, “I had a black eye for weeks! I thought your dads were going to kill you.” 

“Me too. That damn toy should not have been in the hands of a five year old.”

“I wouldn’t want it in your hands now.” The greaser said. “Your dads tossed that thing right?”

“It’s long gone.” Thrown away during one hectic spring cleaning of the house, when Jack was at the movies and unable to protest. “Do you still have your Hot Keyz?”

Ponce tried to remember what he’d done with the old toy. He couldn’t remember ever tossing it out so that only left one option as to it’s location, “It’s in the attic somewhere.” 

“You were such a rockstar.” Jack said, “I always thought you were the coolest kid in school. I couldn’t believe you wanted to be my friend.” 

“Me?” Ponce asked in surprise, “Jack the first time you met me, I was getting my ass kicked, and you thought I was cool?” 

“Well yeah. You weren’t tryin’ to be cool, you just were.” Ponce never cared about fitting in, or what others thought of him, he only wanted to be himself. To live the best life that he could. JFK wished he could be like that. To not be as concerned with his image. “Even if you did have that terrible 90s haircut.”

“Oh god don’t remind me.” Ponce said running a head through his hair. There was a reason he forbad his father from putting up any pictures of him before the age of 14 around the house. “Though you’re talking pretty high and mighty for a guy who used to wear kickers and a backwards hat to school.”

JFK shuddered at the memory. “Oh god that was my picture day ensemble for like three years...” 

Ponce laughed and Jack gave him a little shove. When the greaser kept laughing, Jack got a wicked idea. Smirking deviously, Jack climbed out of bed and headed out into the darkened hallway. “Okay Rockstar, you asked for it.” 

“What are you doing?” Ponce called after him. “Jack come back to bed.” 

The greaser could hear some shuffling around in the hallway and he knew that JFK was searching for something but what? He heard a door open and close and a few minutes later JFK reappeared in Ponce’s bedroom holding a small, red device covered in a thin layer of dust. The presidential clone grinned triumphantly and held his prize up for his boyfriend to see, “I found it.” 

“Oh my god.” JFK was holding onto his old Hot Keyz toy. That could only mean one thing. Ponce groaned and flipped backwards onto the mattress and attempted to pull the blankets up over his head, “Jack, it’s three in the morning.” 

“You started it.” JFK replied and set the toy down at the foot of the bed so he could pull the covers back away from Ponce. He then grabbed the old toy and placed it firmly in Ponce’s hands. “Come on. If you’re going to bring up my kickas you gotta bet that I’d bring up this.”

“I haven’t used this in over ten years. Does it even still work?” The greaser tried to explain and pressed one of the keys, just to see if it would make a sound. It did and a soft note echoed around the room, “...Guess so.”

“Yep.” Jack said, still grinning. He knew that there was no reason for Ponce to say no now. But to get the other boy moving, he leaned back in the bed and looked back towards the door, “I wonda if there’s any old recordings of us singin’ up there.”

JFK knew exactly what he had to say to get Ponce on-board. No one wanted to hear a five year old version of themself attempting to sing. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and adjusted the toy in his lap so he could actually try and play it, “Alright, alright, I’m going.” 

The greaser tried pressing the rest of the keys to see if they would work. To his surprise, the most of them did. Only two keys stuck and after hitting them a few times they started to work properly. It had been so long since he’d played the damn thing, there was only one song he could remember the sheet music for. It was a particular favourite of Ponce’s but it was a classic and Jack knew it too. Ponce started, doing his best to follow the notes from memory alone, “ _Wise men say, only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you_.” 

Jack had a soft spot for tacky 1950s music. Hell, Ponce did too, but at least he was a little more selective in his tastes. Jack loved the Beach Boys and Elvis and while Ponce would never say it to his face, he always found his boyfriend’s adoration of stereotypically American music. Knowing the song well, JFK joined in, “ _Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can’t help falling in love with you_.” 

They were going to wake someone up. The song was soft but no one expected to hear Elvis at 3am. Still, Ponce continued without breaking up the music, “ _Like a river flows, surely to the sea_.” 

By now Jack had picked up on the singing pattern and easily took over his designated part, “ _Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be_.”

“ _Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can’t help falling in love with you_.” As cheesy as the song was, Ponce couldn’t help but start to smile as they were singing. Something about Jack always brought out the best in him and made him smile. 

Jack sat crosslegged on the mattress across from his boyfriend. Even in the dark, Ponce could see a faint blush starting to spread across his face. Despite being the instigator of this little duet, JFK always got worked up doing romantic gestures. He’d never been good at expressing his feelings, “ _Like a river flows, surely to the sea_.”

“ _Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be._ ” 

“ _Take my hand, take my whole life too_.” 

When morning came, Ponce was going to look into getting himself a new keyboard or some sheet music. If singing with JFK made him smile and blush, then Ponce would have to do it more often. Jack had been asking him to collaborate on one of his albums, now might be the time. “ _For I can’t help falling in love with you_.”

“ _For I can’t help falling in love with you_.” 


	11. Prompt 11: Ghost AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which one of the boys is a sarcastic, kinky little shit and the other is a bored, failure of a ghost.

Moving to some backwater town in New Jersey was not how Jack pictured the summer before his senior year going But here he was, standing on the front steps of some old Victorian that looked like it belonged on the set of some cheesy horror movie, a box full of his belongings in hand.

His dads sprung the move on him quickly. There were a few more weeks left of school, they were all having dinner, and suddenly the topic of moving across the country was brought up. Jack had been born and raised on the sunny streets of Los Angeles, the strip was all he’d ever known, and suddenly his dads were talking about small town living. 

“It’ll be a lot safer there. You could even walk to school Baby.” One of them brought up. 

“I have a car.” Jack had replied, “I have a car and I have a van. I don’t need to walk.”

“It’s closer to New York, to most of our clients.” His other dad pointed out. “You could travel into city on weekends and see Broadway shows and concerts.” 

“I can go to the beach, see broadway quality shows, major concerts and movie premieres here any day of the week without having to commute.” Jack replied. “And I can do them while hangin’ out with my closest friends.” 

Unfortunately for Jack he didn’t have much say in the matter. His dads had already made up their minds and the move was happening whether he was on-board or not. Within a week their house was listed with several potential buyers already interested, they had begun scouting for a place in some small town called Exclamation, and Jack was given the difficult task of packing up seventeen years worth of his life into his boxes. The drive over was killer. His parents took their time, tried to turn it into a road trip and stop in “fun” places but it just wasn’t working for Jack. He didn’t want to be there to begin with. What teenage boy wanted to spend days trapped in his parents’ car squished with half of their belongings, stopping randomly in god knows where to take pictures? It wasn’t like he wanted to remember this nightmare. 

Exclamation looked like someone from the 1950s had painted their dream version of a town. The houses all looked the same. White, two stories, with station wagons parked in the driveway. Some broke the norm by having trees or bushes in the front lawns, but most were the same cookie-cutter bullshit. “Oh great,” Jack mumbles to himself. “This looks like some Stepford Wives shit.” Next thing he’d know, he’d be getting chased down the street by robotic versions of his loved ones and similarly replaced. 

Luckily the further they got into town, the more the houses fluctuated in design. The clone houses appeared to be a new development. Perhaps the work of some developer who didn’t have time to make variations to the fifty some residences he was putting up that year. The older homes of Exclamation were, thankfully, more traditional styles; tudors, ranches, bungalows, and finally some victorians. They pulled off onto some side street and at the very end, sitting in the middle of an overgrown lot, was a gloomy manor. Jack shivered at the sight of it and prayed that they kept driving but, just as he feared, his parents pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. One of his dads looked back over the seat at his son and smiled, “What do you think baby?”

The manor looked to be about three stories. Almost every front window was smashed due to what Jack could only guess to be delinquent kids. The wood of the porch looked rotten and Jack was scared to step on it in case he fell through. If this was how it looked on the outside, the teen was terrified to see what it looked like within. Jack made no attempt to sugarcoat his answer, “I think you guys got ripped off.” 

“I know it looks like a lot of work but think about what we could do with it. Once we gut, repair the siding, we can fix it up anyway we want.” His dad pointed out. “Would you rather live in one of those identical houses on the outskirts of town?”

“Fair enough.” Jack replied. Grabbing a box full of his belongings, Jack stepped out of the car and made his way over to the front porch. “The last owners didn’t really care for the property, did they?”

“No one’s lived here for some time, baby.” His dad said as he grabbed a box from the backseat of the car. “Not since the early 60s.” 

“How come?” Jack asked. 

“From what I remember the last family to live here lost one of the son and left town a couple years later out of grief-“

“Oh great! So somebody died in there!” Jack exclaimed, “Who was your realta’, Scooby Doo?” 

“Jack-“

“I’m going to go inside and pick out a room. Preferably a non-haunted room.” The teen paused and quickly added, “Or when haunted by a smokin’ hottie like James Dean or Marilyn Monroe.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works...”

Of course it wasn’t but Jack could keep his fingers crossed. 

Surprisingly the stairs didn’t give way underneath Jack’s feet though they creaked and bent dangerously close to doing so. The inside of the house could be considered better or worse depending upon what type of horror movie scared you the most. Cobwebs littered the corners of every doorway, a thick layer of dust coated everything in sight, and dead spiders lay underneath windows in the glass broken by the kids who hurled rocks. Furniture leftover from the previous owners still remained though everything was covered with thin sheets that had started life pure white but had become stained with age. Feeling curious, Jack rested his box on the stairs and ventured into what would have been the parlour. He grabbed ahold of the edge of the sheet covering a large, bulky looking object and pulled it off revealing a dusty old piano. Why had the previous owners left this behind? Aside from the dust it appeared to be in good condition and if it was leftover from the 1960s as his dads claimed, it could be worth a lot of money. Jack pressed one of the keys and marvelled at how it echoed around the room. Decades ago this would have been an excellent music room. Maybe later Jack would come back downstairs and see about getting the old girl cleaned up, but in the meantime he needed to pick out a bedroom. The teen doubled back, collected his box from where he’d left it, and continued upstairs.

There were three rooms on the second floor that could function as a bedroom, not including the master, but none of them really stood out to Jack. The one at the end of the hall, nearest the bathroom, had once been a little girl’s room. The insides were coated in faded pink wallpaper that was peeling away. The previous owners had taken the time to collect everything from this room except for a couple broken toys Jack found in the closet. There was a small room across from the master seemed to have once been an office. Jack could make out grooves still left in the carpet from the legs of a desk. It wouldn’t have been a bad room except for the terrible view of the neighbours’ bedroom. As social as Jack could be, there was something to be said about having to see your elderly neighbours changing every day and night. The last room had a decent view of the backyard but was full of moldy old cardboard boxes. Jack risked peeling back the old tape on one and found an old silver picture frame containing a black and white picture of a family standing together in front of an old school. There was a man and woman, the stereotypical picture of a couple from the 1950s, along with a teenage boy and young girl. They were all dressed in their Sunday best but Jack could tell from looking at the boy alone that there was a rebellious streak in him. Maybe it was the way his hair was greased back, maybe it was that James Dean-like smile, something about the boy screamed rebel without a cause. Had he been the boy who’d died in this house or did he have a brother? It would certainly explain the extra rooms. 

Since none of the ones on the second floor seemed appealing to Jack he ventured further upstairs to the attic. Years ago the previous owners turned the space into an apartment. There was a private bathroom connected to the room, which was enough for Jack to want to claim the space for himself, along with a bay window overlooking the street. A couple boxes of forgotten items rested underneath the window and Jack made a mental note to move them down to the spare room later. In the meantime he set his box down for good next to the doorway and looked around the room, “Dibs.” 

There was a rush of cold air and Jack shivered. He looked back to the bay window and found it slightly ajar. “Huh...” Jack mumbled. He was certain that it had been closed a minute ago. “That’s weird.” 

Something rushed past Jack’s ear and an unfamiliar voice whispered in his ear, “Get out.” 

“Dad?” Jack called out. Given his reaction to learning that the house had a history, it was entirely possible that this was all some elaborate prank. But then the voice called out again, this time dripping with venom, 

“Get out!”

“Hold the phone...” Jack definitely hadn’t heard this person before and they definitely weren’t one of his dads. But that could only mean one thing....one outrageous thing....Jack turned and headed back downstairs to the kitchen. He started to poke around the cupboards and pulled a half-empty box of salt underneath the sink. With the salt in tow, Jack ventured back upstairs to his new bedroom and waited until he heard the voice again. Then, without a single moment of hesitation, Jack dumped the boxed out into a little circle surrounding himself. There was a sizzle followed by a loud pop like that of a balloon and the boy from the photo appeared behind Jack. He was decked out in leather, unlike the suit he wore in the picture, translucent, and coughing furiously.

“What the fuck?” The boy demanded between gasps for unneeded breath. 

“Holy shit it worked!” Jack explained and jumped out of the salt circle he’d created. “I caught a ghost!”

The ghost in question hissed and thrashed around inside his newfound prison, “Hey! Let me go!”

Jack scoffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Oh sure. You knock off that hauntin’ of hill house shit and I’ll let you go easy peasy.” 

The ghost boy was not impressed, “I’m a ghost. I haunt. It’s what we do.”

“So what’s your plan then Tex? Scream, knock over boxes, make the walls drip blood?” Jack asked picturing the standard behaviour of ghosts and spirits in movies and cartoons. 

“No.” The ghost replied confidently. There was a brief pause between the two and the ghost shifted awkwardly inside the salt circle before finally adding, “I don’t know how to do the blood thing yet.”

“Uh huh. This your first hauntin’ or somethin’? You seem kinda...green around the edges.”

“If you must know, it is.” The ghost replied.” The house has been empty for a long time. Since I died.” 

“So when’d ya die?”

The ghost gave Jack a weird look and gestured down at himself. His hair was greased back, just as it had been in the 1950s, and he was wearing an old fashioned leather jacket, tight jeans, and biker boots. “1852.” He said sarcastically. 

Jack nodded his head, “Oh.”

“No-I-Does it look like I’m from the Victorian era?”

“No.” Jack replied. “You look like Fonzie.” Just then he had a horrible thought and rushed back into the salt circle to grab the ghost (as best he could) by the shoulders, “...Henry Winkla’? Are you dead?”

“I died in 1957.” The ghost said not been bothering to correct Jack about his Happy Days inquests, “And my name is Ponce.” 

“Oh.” Thank god. This day had been stressful enough, the last thing Jack needed was to learn about the death of one of his favourite actors. “Do you have any other cool ghost powers?”

“Nothing really cool. Just your standard ghost powers: being able to turn invisible, go through walls, levitate stuff-“

“Can you possess people? That’d be really cool.” 

“I never tried.” Ponce mumbled looking down at his boots. “You want to give it a try?”

“Hell yeah!” Jack exclaimed and kicked away the salt lines keeping Ponce in check. He took a step back and extended his arms outwards, “Okay, possess me.” 

Ponce took a couple steps back to gain some distance and then charged straight towards the other boy. When Ponce came crashing into him instead of falling back to the floor, Jack slid back a couple inches and Ponce disappeared. The next time Jack spoke, Ponce’s voice exited his mouth instead. “Woah...you’re really high off the ground. Can you see what I’m seeing?”

No response. Ponce sighed and leaned back against the doorframe. “So I’m just talking to myself now? It’s Like every other Friday night.” 

A voice rang out in the back of the posted boy’s head. “I can see! Stop whinin’!”

“Oh. So it’s like a voice in your head. That’s how it works.” Ponce mused. “What do you want to do now?”

“I don’t know.” Jack’s detached voice said. “Hey, if you went out and picked up a chick, she wouldn’t know it but technically we’d be having a threesome!”

Ponce scrunched up his nose in disgust. “Gross.” 

“I wonder if we can both feel stuff when you’re in my body.” Jack asked. “Try pinchin’ me.” 

Despite being fully aware that it was a stupid idea Ponce extended his arm and pinched his borrowed bicep, “Ow!”

“Ow.” Jack cried in the back of Ponce’s mind. “...So feelin’ is a yes.”

“I guess so.” Ponce mumbled and an image popped into his head. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who put it there. The greaser shook his head hoping it would knock some sense into the other boy but the image remained. 

After a couple seconds of awkward silence, Jack piped up, “I have an idea. Do you want to try...?”

“No.” Ponce replied firmly and having had enough of the increasingly disturbing sexual images Jack was placing in his mind, slid out from inside the other boy. Jack tumbled to the ground and Ponce stepped back out of his way. “No.”

Jack coughed and struggled to regain control over his breathing after someone else had been in control of it for so long, “You don’t even know what I’m about to say.”

“I have a good idea.” Ponce explained, “Look I don’t just go doing that kinda thing with strangers, Pal.”

“I’m not a stranga. I’m your new roommate.” Jack replied with a grin and pushed himself up off the floor. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

 


	12. Prompt 12: Fake Dating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW ahead. You’ve been warned.

“Are you busy Friday night?”

JFK looked up over his shoulder at his best friend. Ponce had been looming around his locker waiting for Jack to show up but hadn’t spoken so much as a word to him until now. If Jack had to guess, he’d say Ponce was trying to build up the nerve to ask for something. But this was it? What possible plans for Friday night could Ponce have that would make him feel awkward around his best friend? Whatever it was it had to have been big, so JFK answered honestly, “Not really. I was plannin’ on hittin’ the gym for a bit, watchin’ some tv, but nothin’ too concrete. Why?”

Ponce, who had been leaning against some of the other lockers, shifted uncomfortably. “My aunt is coming over for dinner.”

JFK nodded and gestured for Ponce to continue, “Okay. And?”

“I want to piss her off.”

“Okay, but again what does this have to do with me?”

“You know Sharon, Jack. She’s the stereotypical red-blooded American redneck. Anything that isn’t the status quo upsets her, especially stuff that isn’t straight and white.”

JFK had met Ponce’s aunt back when he and Ponce were still in elementary school. If it weren’t for the fact that Ponce’s father referred to her as his sister JFK would have never been able to tell that she was related. Sharon was tall, thin as a tooth pick, and dressed like she was expecting the rapture at any moment. When she had been introduced to tiny, nine year old JFK she sneered down her nose at him and mumbled something about how cloning was an abomination. Naturally JFK did his best not to think about her as often as he could. “Yeah, she’s a real piece of work. Go on.”

“So if I were to show up to dinner with someone outside the status quo say, a boyfriend, it would really set her off wouldn’t it?” Ponce asked. For all of his obliviousness, Jack had grown to learn when his best friend was up to something and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what.

“I guess.” Jack said, grabbing his English textbook and shutting the door to his locker. “Wait. Are you askin’ me out...?”

JFK had a well known reputation for being a womanizer. It wasn’t a secret nor was it something he tried to hide. Almost every girl in school at one point or another had either made out or hooked up with. To the men of Exclamation, JFK was a god to be idolized. He was a fantasy most men could only ever dream of aspiring to. To the women, he was Adonis. Handsome, strong, charming, and a demon in the sack. He could have anyone he wanted, whether they be single or married, but JFK no longer wanted anyone. Anyone actually attainable at least. At some point Clone High’s resident player had fallen head over heels in love with his best friend. For someone so versed in love and sex, JFK should have seen it coming but it came seemingly out of nowhere. One minute they’re sitting in the cafeteria, JFK was goofing off and Ponce was being an excellent wing-man by laughing at every one of his friend’s crappy jokes. JFK looked over, saw his friend genuinely enjoying his terrible humour, and a single thought popped into the presidential clone’s mind; “I love him.” 

JFK waited for his newfound feelings to go away but they remained. If anything they grew stronger. There were times in class where JFK would look over and see Ponce relaxing in the back of class and think, “Man, he’s so cute when he starts to drift off to sleep” or “Those pants really are ugly as sin but he makes them work.” One weekend Ponce came over to his place to crash and while his buddy was busy getting a shower, JFK noticed the greaser’s jacket on the back of his desk chair. Every instinct in the presidential’s clone body told him to leave it be but JFK couldn’t contain himself. He went over, picked the jacket up, and inhaled deeply. It smelled like Ponce; like leather and sandalwood. When Ponce came back in the room, wearing a tank top and pair of loose fitting sweatpants, he saw his jacket sitting on Jack’s desk and asked if he had moved it. Jack, who had pulled a pillow over his lap and was holding it close to himself to avoid his ‘secret’ from being discovered, just shook his head no. That night, with his friend sleeping less than three feet away from him, JFK had a very wild dream but there was no playboy bunnies, no swimsuit models, there was only Ponce. 

Was this the universe’s way of telling him to go for it? Jack held his textbook close to his heart and waited for a response. Ponce just shook his head, “No! Well kinda. I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend. You know, acting.”

“Oh. Actin’.” JFK sighed but Ponce didn’t seem to notice his disappointment. “...why me?”

“You’re my best friend Jack, I wouldn’t trust anyone else with this mission. Not to mention that Sharon already hates you because of your dads. It would just fit together perfectly.” Ponce explained. “Come on Jack. You do this for me and I’ll owe you for life!”

JFK had nothing to loose. For all he knew, pretending to be Ponce’s boyfriend may be the closest he’d ever get to actually being with the greaser. “...What are you having for dinna?” 

“Pasta.” Ponce replied with a smirk. He knew it was only a matter of time until Jack agreed. “Her damn kids won’t eat anything else.” 

“With garlic bread? Your dad’s home made garlic bread?” Jack asked and Ponce nodded, “I’m in.” 

“It scares me how easily I can buy you with food.” The greaser said and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “We’ll just head over after school. That gives us more time to plan out a method of attack-“

“This isn’t war Ponce.” 

“Oh trust me Jack, it is.” 

~~~~

Ponce gave JFK a ride home after school. He figured that it would be easier to convince his family that they were a couple if Jack showed up on the back of Ponce’s motorcycle. JFK didn’t mind. It was another excuse to wrap his arms around Ponce’s waist and nuzzle close without arousing any suspicion from his friend. Part of Jack felt guilty about it but it had been Ponce’s idea to take the bike in the first place. They pulled up to Ponce’s place and noticed an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway. Ponce groaned, “Great. She’s here. Look Jackie-boy, I’m sorry for anything she says to you tonight.” 

Jack shrugged him off. How much damage could one woman do? “Whatever. I can take it.” 

They went in the side door to the house and stepped into the kitchen. Ponce’s father had gotten the day off work to prepare for the dinner and they found him standing at the stove stirring some homemade spaghetti sauce for the night. Always the eternal ray of sunshine, Glen smiled and waved the boys in. “Hey fellas, how’s it going?”

Ponce waved back, “Hey dad.” 

“Hey Mr. Matthews.” JFK said, “Thanks for having me.” 

“Anytime Jack.” Glen replied. He had known the presidential clone almost as long as his son did. At this point Jack was pretty much family. He turned his focus towards Ponce, “Sharon is getting settled in and your cousins are playing in the backyard.”

Ponce nodded to show that he understood, “Did you warn the neighbours?”

“Ponce.” Glen warned him. “Dinner will be ready soon. We’re just waiting one more person.”

“Oh yeah? Lucifer?” The greaser asked.

“Are you going to be like this all night?” Glen asked. When Ponce didn’t respond, Glen took that as a ‘yes’. “A...friend of mine will be joining us.”

“A friend?” Ponce repeated. 

“Like a lady friend?” JFK asked. It was about time the old janitor got back into the game. “Atta boy Mr. Matthews!”

“Jack.” Ponce mumbled. “Really?”

JFK just chuckled and Glen rubbed the back of his neck. It was always awkward trying to bring someone home to meet your family but when you had a teenager involved it only amplified the tension. It didn’t help that Sharon’s presence meant that Ponce was already on edge. Jack felt like he was standing at the train station, unable to look away or do anything as two locomotives ran towards each other at high speeds. Tonight was going to be eventful to say the least but that did not stop Glen from trying to save face, “Please try and be civil. For my sake?”

“Dad, I won’t start shit but if she starts saying things I’m not just going to take it.” Ponce replied and he grabbed onto JFK’s arm. “C‘mon, lets go wait upstairs.”

Jack didn’t blame him for wanting to get away from the drama and relax for a bit before facing off against his aunt and meeting his dad’s girlfriend for the first time. As fate would have it though, relaxing before dinner wasn’t in the cards. As soon as JFK and Ponce got to the top of the stairs, a woman came out of the guest room across the hall from Ponce’s. It had been years since JFK had seen her last but the haunting visage of Aunt Sharon had been burned into Jack’s memory. He could pick her out of a lineup at fifty feet in a pitch black room. Sharon finally noticed the two boys lurking at the top of the stairs and threw her arms around Ponce in a big, elaborate display. “Ponce Matthews, as I live and breathe.”

“De Leon.” The greaser muttered under his breath before finally speaking up so that his aunt could hear him. “Hey Aunt Sharon. How are you?”

“Tired. Very tired. It’s a long flight from Lynchburg to Exclamation. Two hours squished between the most inconsiderate people you can imagine. And the rental car company was so inconsiderate.” Her eyes fell past her nephew and landed on Jack standing awkwardly behind him, half trying to hide and half considering how far he could get up the street if he ran. “Oh? You brought a little friend. Sharon Kirby, pleasure to meet you.”

“JFK.” Jack said and dared to extend his hand out to her for Sharon to shake. “We’ve met before.” 

“Oh.” Sharon didn’t take his hand and JFK let it fall limp at his side. Same old Sharon. “Oh. I remember you now. Tell me, and be honest, how are things going at home?”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked. 

Sharon decided not to answer him. “Well it’s nice that you can get a fresh, warm meal here. We Matthews are all about doing our Christian duty, aren’t we Ponce?”

“Yep.” Ponce mumbled and wriggled free from his aunt’s death grip. He bounded over to Jack and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “We should probably get cleaned up before dinner. Football practice works up a sweat, and you didn’t have a chance to shower after did you?”

There hadn’t been football practice in weeks. Not since the last school riot where half the school torched the football pitch. But Sharon didn’t need to know that. “Yeah,” Jack said. “Lets go then.”

Ponce lead Jack towards the bathroom, his arm still wrapped snuggly around the other boy’s shoulders. Sharon didn’t realize the implications of her nephew’s words until both boys stepped into the bathroom and Ponce went to shut and lock the door behind them. Racing over, Sharon blocked the door with her foot. “Wait!” She exclaimed. “What are you boys doing?” 

“Going to get a shower.” Ponce explained, pushed her foot back, and shut the door in her face. 

~~~

“This is weird.” JFK said, absentmindedly picking at the grout in the tile floor. “You do realize how weird this is?”

The boys were sitting on the bathroom floor, leaning back against the bathtub, and staring ahead at the locked door. They’d been in there for ten minutes now, just sitting and talking as the shower running behind them drowned out the noise. JFK didn’t believe that Sharon would be bold enough to press her ear to the door but Ponce had insisted on being careful. 

“Yeah I know.” The greaser replied, “But did you see the look on her face when she realized we were going in together?”

“That was pretty funny.” Jack admitted, “What did she mean when she asked me about what was goin’ on at home?”

“She’s homophobic Jack.” Ponce explained, “Ever since she met you, Sharon’s been expecting you to turn into some human disaster she can use as evidence in her crusade against the LGBT+ community.”

“Bitch.” As much shit as JFK liked to give his parents, he did love them and they loved him. Anytime Jack needed something they were there in an instant, which was more than what could be said about half of the other parents in town. And just like that JFK was back on the annoy-the-shit-out-of-Sharon train. “So what’s our plan? How are we goin’ to send her runnin’ for the hills?”

“Sit next to me at dinner and follow my lead. I’m thinking some hand holding, some playful teasing, and that’ll be enough to make her head explode.”

“Sounds good to me.” JFK replied though he had a couple new ideas of his own on how to drive the woman over the edge. She had to learn her lesson; no one messed with JFK’s family. “Can I make a suggestion?”

“The floor is yours.” 

“So she thinks we’re ‘showering’ right now right?” Jack asked, “Let’s drive that home.”

~~~

Glen hadn’t been on a date in years. Though he was surrounded by friends, it had been hard to connect with women romantically after the death of his first wife years ago. Ponce had been only a baby then and his memories of his foster mother were faint and far between. Perhaps it was some loyalty to his first wife that kept Glen from pursuing a new romantic partner or the fear that by meeting someone new, his son would forget all about his foster mother. Whatever the case, Glen had been out of the game a long time when he met Louisa. She was a grade school teacher in town, recently divorced, with two foster kids of her own though they were still in elementary school themselves. They’d met during one of the mandatory PD days where the school board got together to discuss new changes to the curriculum and such. She was a sweet lady, warm and polite, and Glen hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Hence the importance of tonight. Originally the dinner was going to be just him, Ponce, Louisa, and her kids but then Sharon decided to drop in with her children, Louisa’s ex.husband made plans to take the kids to see The Lion King on Broadway, and upon learning of his aunt’s impending presence Ponce insisted on bringing someone. So things were already going off the rails by the time Louisa showed up with a vintage bottle of wine in tow. 

“I’m looking forward to finally meeting everybody.” She exclaimed, setting the wine on the kitchen counter and searching for some glasses. “From what you’ve told me, they all sound lovely.”

“Yeah, just...be careful. There’s some bad blood between my son and my sister and it could spill over.” Glen warned her as he set about setting the table. “If it does, just know he’s normally not like this.” 

“I’m sure it’ll be okay.” Louisa insisted. She poured three glasses for her, Glen, and Sharon and set about getting some water for the underage parties. 

“Hello.” Louisa and Glen looked to the doorway. Sharon stood there with her hands on her hips, her two children hiding behind her legs. “Sharon Kirby nice to meet you.” 

“Louisa Downe.” The teacher replied and extended her hand out for Sharon to shake. “It’s a pleasure.” 

Sharon and her children brushed past the woman without attempting to shake her hand. The two children took their seats quickly without a word, while Sharon circled Louisa like a shark circled its prey. “My, my, my Louisa. That’s a very pretty dress you have on. A little north of the knee but I guess that’s what drew Glen to you, right?” Her brother coughed loudly and Sharon rolled her eyes, “Oh calm down. I’m kidding.”

Louisa forced an awkward laugh and took a seat at the table next to the two children. Both eyed the woman as if at any moment she’d pull a knife and inched not so subtly away from her. Sharon sat across from Louisa and smiled though there was nothing warm nor inviting about it. Her smile was akin to that of the Joker with a hint of the grinch. “My babies Ruth and Simon.” Sharon explained. “I made sure to give them good, strong Christian names. Unlike Ponce.” 

Glen sighed and brought the food over to the table. Ponce and JFK would join them when they were good and ready. “For the hundredth time Sharon, I didn’t name him. And I don’t see what’s so wrong with Ponce.” 

“You wouldn’t.” Sharon mumbled. 

“Hey dad,” Speak of the devil, Ponce and JFK appeared in the kitchen doorway and made their way over to the dinner table. Ponce sat down at the head of the table, between Ruth and Jack, and cast an inviting smile over at Louisa. “Who’s this?”

“Louisa Downe this is my son Ponce.” Glen said. “And Jack..-“

He hadn’t been paying close enough attention before to notice, what with Sharon already beginning to act up and Jack standing behind Ponce on their way in, but Glen could see it now and had he been taking a drink Glen may have very well choked. With a shit-eating grin, Jack took his seat next to Ponce and reached across the table to shake Louisa’s hand. Louisa, having never met Ponce or JFK before, had no reason to find anything odd about the boys but Glen did, as did Sharon. Jack was wearing Ponce’s beloved leather jacket!

“I’m Ponce’s boyfriend.” JFK explained to Louisa, “Nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet the both of you.” Louisa said with a smile of her own. “Shall we eat?”

“That sounds lovely.” Said Ponce. 

“Ah hm.” Sharon cleared her throat. “We have to say grace first.”

Glen sighed, “Sharon, we really don’t do graces-“

Sharon was having none of this and folded her hands together in prayer, “And your son is a delinquent sodomite. I think saying grace for one night won’t kill him.”

The usual happy-go-lucky janitor grit his teeth together. “That is way out of line-“

“It’s okay dad.” Ponce interrupted him. “Aunt Sharon is right. I am such a lost cause, headed nowhere in life fast. Forget my job, my 4.0 grade point average, my large circle of friends, my nearly spotless record. I am scum. I am damned.”

“And I will certainly get no athletic scholarships with my positions as head of the football team, the track and field team, and my part on the basketball team.” JFK added. “Or because of my high test scores.” 

That was the end of the discussion of saying grace. Dinner was dished up and people started to dig in. Louisa took a sip of wine before trying to start up a conversation, “So boys, where do you want to go after high school?”

“NASA.” JFK replied without hesitation. “I’ve been eyein’ up a couple of schools with connections to the space program.”

“Ha.” Sharon snorted but Jack made the executive decision not to respond and fuel her fire. 

“That’s wonderful!” Louisa said, “What about you Ponce?”

The greaser tended not to think too much about the future, preferring to live in the moment though there were a couple of different career options he had been looking into. “Well I like music but I’ve also been thinking about going into teaching. I’m doing really well in Spanish so I’ve been thinking about teaching some language courses.”

“Spanish is dumb.” Sharon piped up. “Why don’t you teach something useful? Like math?”

“I’m Spanish.” Ponce reminded her. 

“You’re white.” Sharon fired back and this time her children took to her defence. 

“Yeah,” Ruth said, speaking for the first time since showing up at the Matthews house. “Spanish is a language. Not a people.”

Ponce groaned and rubbed his temples feeling a headache coming on. “Spain is a country. We’ve been over this.” 

“It’s impolite to talk back to your elders, boy.” Sharon snapped, ignoring Ponce’s statement entirely. “See Glen, this is what happens when you let your kids be exposed to the liberal media for so long. It makes them disrespectful-“

JFK couldn’t take it anymore. If Sharon was going to blow up, she needed to do so now! Jack couldn’t take one more minute in this woman’s presence. Without warning he leaned across the table, grabbed Ponce by the thin straps of his tank top, and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss. Not knowing how his best friend would respond, Jack closed his eyes and waited for Ponce to pull away and slug him one. Except Ponce didn’t. By the time Jack pulled back and opened his eyes, the entire dinner party was starring at them with wide eyes and Ponce was all but stunned, “...woah.” 

Sharon was red in the face and any minute steam was going to blow from her ears. Louisa was polishing off the last of her wine. Ruth and Simon looked traumatized. Glen had his head in hands and was rubbing his forehead trying to prevent a migraine. It would seem that Jack had succeeded. The presidential clone rose to his feet, “I’m sorry. May we be excused?”

“Uh. Sure.” Glen mumbled not bothering to look up. 

Ponce all but jumped to his feet and Jack grabbed him by the arm, quickly pulling him out of the kitchen and upstairs. Louisa watched them leave and chuckled, “Ah teenagers. What a confusing, hormone-fuelled time.”

Glen sighed, finally looking up and seized his glass of wine. He chugged it down before saying, “I promise dinners aren’t normally like this.”

~~~

JFK pulled Ponce into the greaser’s bedroom and locked the door behind him. Ponce started to laugh and flopped backwards onto his bed, and Jack joined him a second later. “That was awesome Jackie-Boy! You really pulled that outta left field!” The greaser exclaimed. JFK placed both his hands on Ponce’s face and pulled him into another kiss. Ponce didn’t pull away, nor did he kiss back, and when JFK broke the kiss Ponce flashed him a confused look, “...They can’t see us anymore buddy. You don’t have to-“

“What if maybe I want to?” JFK asked. “What if maybe I actually really like you but couldn’t figure out how to say it?”

“Oh.” Ponce said mulling his best friend’s words over. A wild grin broke out across the greaser’s face. “Then continue.” 

The presidential clone grinned and pulled the other boy into another kiss. Ponce snaked his arms around Jack’s shoulders, and Jack’s hand started to drift lower and lower down the Greaser’s body, pausing at the waistband of his jeans. “Fuck Ponce...” He mumbled into the kiss. “Can I...?”

“Yeah!” Ponce said eagerly and took advantage of JFK’s distraction to slip the leather jacket and JFK’s sweater off. He tossed them over onto his bedroom floor, followed shortly after by his tank top. “Yeah go ahead...”

Jack undid the buttons of Ponce’s jeans and slid them off along with the other boy’s boxers. It wasn’t his first time seeing Ponce completely naked, but it was his first time seeing him naked and with a boner. Jack gulped and though he couldn’t see it he felt the heat rise to his face. He couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated. Ponce, in the meantime, had taken to getting JFK’s pants off and adding them to the pile of discarded clothing on the floor. Now seemed as good a time as any to bring it up. “I er uh...haven’t really done any of this stuff with a guy before...” Jack mumbled softly. He had a vague understanding of what to do, and he’d seen a couple pornos involving guy-on-guy but seeing it and actually doing it were two completely different things. Not to mention this was Ponce. Ponce! His best friend in the entire world! What if he fucked up and it was terrible? Or he hurt him? “You’ll let me know if something’s wrong?”

“If something’s wrong Jackie-boy, you’ll be the first to know.” Ponce teased. He noticed the blush spreading across Jack’s face and chuckled, “Do you need help?”

“Yes please.” 

Ponce fumbled around trying to grab the handle for his bedside table drawer and yanked it open. He pulled out a small cylinder and tossed it over to Jack. The presidential clone knew what it was. You didn’t get a reputation as a womanizer without learning to recognize the different types of lube. “Okay, I get it.”

“It’s not hard.” Ponce said with a smirk, “No pun intended.” 

“Haha.” Something about the greaser always seemed to put Jack at ease. Popping the cap off the bottle, JFK squirted a bit onto his hand and coated his fingers. He moved Ponce’s legs apart and carefully slid one finger into him, “This okay?”

“More than okay.” Ponce replied, “You can add more. I can take it.”

JFK chuckled and added another finger, moving them around and stretching the greaser. “This isn’t your first rodeo, huh cowboy?”

“Naw. There were a couple others.” Ponce admitted. “They weren’t as big as you though.” 

“You do realize you’re bigga than me.” JFK pointed out. At some point he was definitely going to want to try his hand at being speared by that thing but he was going to need a lot of practice. And lube. He added a third finger and moved it around until he found the spot inside Ponce that made him shudder. “Sweet.”

“I was bigger than them too. Doesn’t make what I said any less true.” Ponce said with a moan. “Fuck Jack, just get it over with already! You’re killing me here buddy!”

As much as JFK wanted to fuck Ponce into oblivion, hearing the greaser say his name like that was really doing something to him. His cock was twitching at the thought of it. “Sure, sure Ponce but maybe I like hearin’ you say my name like that. Maybe I want to hear you say it again.” 

“You sadistic bastard.” Ponce said with an eye roll. “Come on Jackie-boy, please?”

“Who am I to say no?” JFK pulled his fingers out and went reaching for the bottle of lube. He squirted more onto his hand and smeared it over his cock. He may have gone a little overboard in his application but it was better to be safe than sorry. He held onto the greaser’s hips, lined himself up, and slowly pushed into the other boy. The presidential clone groaned at the tight warmth that engulfed his cock and threw his head back, “Oh shit Ponce...”

“Agh! Jack...!” Ponce groaned and clutched the sheets. “...You can move.” 

“Aren’t you the bossy one?” JFK asked but who was he to deny Ponce anything? He started to rock his hips into the greaser, being careful enough to angle himself so he was hitting Ponce’s prostate. Ponce moaned and drug his nails into Jack’s back. “Oh fuck!”

JFK sped up his thrusts and reached around to grasp Ponce’s cock in his hand. Ponce moaned and rocked his hips in time to meet Jack’s thrusts, moaning and mumbling Jack’s name with every shockwave of pleasure that spread through his body. 

Ponce came first, screaming his best friend turned lover’s name, and coating JFK’s hand. Jack held onto Ponce through his orgasm and, feeling a sudden streak of boldness, lifted his hand to his move and licked the cum off. A thick, heavy blush spread across Ponce’s face at the sight and had he not already cum, this would have sent him over the edge. “Jesus Jack...!”

It didn’t take JFK long to cum after Ponce. A couple more thrusts, a couple more licks of his hand and mulling over the taste of his bestfriend’s jizz, and he was cumming. “Fuck Ponce...!”

Jack’s head was spinning, his hands were trembling, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. As soon as his head became clear and JFK could think again, he realized that Ponce was snickering beneath him. That was a new one. He raised an eyebrow, “What the hell? Why are you laughin’?”

“You have the most ridiculous orgasm face I think I’ve ever seen.” Ponce admitted between laughs and the gasps for air. “You looked like something out of some raunchy cartoon!”

“Oh really? Well I can safely say that you looked adorable when you came.” JFK fired back. “You had this big dopey grin and your eyes nearly rolled back into your head.” 

Jack leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Ponce’s lips without thinking. He still didn’t know where he and the greaser were at in this relationship, or if Ponce would still be into him once he pulled out. “I uh...this doesn’t change anythin’ right? Doesn’t make it weird?”

“I don’t find it weird.” Ponce replied. “You’re still my best friend. Now you’re just a little more than that. And you’ve now seen me naked. So there’s that.” 

“Naked with a boner.” JFK corrected him. “And I’ve fucked you so there’s that too.”

“That too.” Ponce repeated with a laugh, “Your reputation suits you.” 

“Just what reputation is that?”

“That you’re a demon in the sack.” 

“Cool.” Jack replied and leaned in for one more quick kiss. “...Is it bad I kinda hope your Aunt Sharon heard some of that?”

 


	13. Prompt 13: Costumes

“Hey Ponce. You have your motorcycle license right?”

Ponce looked down at the bike he was straddling and had driven to school every day since he’d gotten his license. From his seat behind the greaser, though he could not see it, JFK choked back a laugh, the absurdity of the situation not being lost on him. Ponce causally leaned forward on his handlebars and asked, “Yeah?”

He had been planning on going for a ride with his boyfriend after school that day when they had been, more or less, ambushed in the parking lot by Cleo and Marie Curie. The girls had been waving frantically and shouting to ensure that the boys could see and hear them over the roar of the motorcycle’s engine, desperate to speak with them before they could depart school property, and this was the question they needed to ask? Ponce cut the engine and both he & JFK got comfortable. This was going to be awhile. 

“And you play guitar?” Marie asked. Another obvious question. Ponce had been in the music club since 8th grade. Everyone knew that. 

“Yes. Why?”

“Perfect!” Cleo clapped her hands together as if she suddenly had found some discontinued coach purse from the 1950s. She hit the jackpot but with what she wanted to do with Ponce, the greaser had no idea. “We have a job for you.” 

It could be anything but seeing as Cleo and Marie has joined forces to confront him Ponce suspected it had to do with the theatre department. Both were active members of the school drama club, the president and vice president respectively, and while the pair harboured no ill will towards each other they moved in different social circles. Only matters of the stage could bring the two together and unite them. Ponce said nothing though he was confident in his assumptions and Cleo continued, “The school theatre department is putting on an extra show to raise money to rebuild the science lab following last week’s explosion.”

No one knew who was responsible. No one on staff at least. Half a dozen students in the lab saw Jésus Christo daring Voltaire to mix some of the unknown chemicals stored in the unlabelled jars and felt the room shake seconds later. It didn’t take a genius to piece everything together. JFK grew increasingly bored with the conversation and rolled his eyes, slumping forward so he was leaning entirely on his boyfriend, “Couldn’t the school petition the government for more fundin’?”

“We tried. Something about the last time emergency funds were used, someone wasted the money on breeding bull sharks in the school pool. Any and all school funds must be raised from now on.” Marie explained. 

That would explain the numerous bake sales and theme days popping up around the school recently. Ponce just blew everything off as more Clone High weirdness. The greaser shifted, sitting up straight, planting his feet firmly on the ground and crossing his arms in front of his chest. JFK didn’t move in the slightest more than at home clinging to the other boy’s back. “So you want me to be in your play?”

“Musical.” Cleo corrected him but that only raised more questions. 

“What musical requires a cast member to have a valid motorcycle license?” JFK asked. His knowledge of musical theatre or theatre in general was limited but the shows he did know most certainly did not involve motorcycle mechanics. 

Marie replied with the name of a show that Jack had never heard of but Ponce did. His best friend turned boyfriend nearly fell off the motorcycle when he heard her say, “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” 

“How?” Ponce asked as he struggled to regain his position, his voice cracking as he tried to piece together the how-to behind the production. “How’d you get permission for a high school production of Rocky Horror?”

“Skudworth doesn’t care so long as we turn a profit and I got my mom to sign forms stating we had the PTA’s support.” Cleo stated. Not that the PTA needed that much convincing. Half the time they had no idea what was going on at the school and only learned about events until two weeks later. “Come on, Please? We need you to be our Eddie.”

“Wait what does Eddie do?” JFK asked. 

“Interrupts a dinner party on a motorcycle, sings a song about sex and rock & roll, is murdered, and briefly haunts the production.”

“That sounds like fun.” It sounded like a regular weekend for JFK. Except for the murder part. He chuckled and gave the other boy a nudge. “Come on Rockstar, you know you wanna.”

“Well...” It wasn’t as if he didn’t like the show. In fact Rocky Horror Picture Show was one of Ponce’s favourites (after Grease). But he had limited his singing to time spent in the music club or working with his band, never on the stage. And he wasn’t that big of an actor. Eddie may have been a majorly singing part but Ponce still needed to act. Sensing some his boyfriend’s discomfort with the proposition, JFK nuzzled against him and the greaser had an idea. “What about Jack?”

“What about him?” Cleo asked. 

“The only way I’ll agree to play Eddie is if you get JFK to play Magenta.”

“But Magenta is a femal-“

“Hang on. Quick huddle.” Cleo grabbed Marie’s arm and yanked her off to the side for a quick debriefing. As much as they needed Ponce in the show, there were some upsides to having his boyfriend in the cast with them too. She whispered to the other girl, “JFK’s albums are always best sellers and having him in the production would guarantee a high turn out from his fans alone.”

“His dads may also be able to hook us up with new sound equipment and gear.” Marie added. Record producers and theatre enthusiasts, it was the perfect combination. 

“Plus we’d get to see him in costume during Rose Tint My World.”

Marie was not so much concerned with seeing JFK in a corset and heels as she was with ensuring that the show raised enough money. “He’d definitely put Ponce at ease during production too.” So maybe JDK and Ponce didn’t have much experience when it came to acting. This was a high school production after all, no one was looking for broadway quality. “Alright.”

“JFK you want to be Magenta?” Cleo asked. 

“Depends.” JFK replied with a shrug, “What does Magenta do?”

“Sing, dance with the crew, hang off Eddie, mourn his death, doe an elaborate dance in a chorus line wearing only underwear-“

“I’m in.” 

~~~~

Clone High didn’t have a good track record when it came to the overall production quality and turn out of their theatre productions. Or their social events. Or their sports events. Clone high organized events didn’t work out well in general. Yet with both Cleo and Marie, two of the school’s most capable students, helming the wheel Rocky Horror was well under way. The cast got along well, sets we’re under construction by the shop class, and the additions of Ponce De Leon & JFK to the cast had been stirring up a greater amount of interest in the production among both their fellow students and local residents. They’d rehearse after school. Run lines, work on blocking, discuss possible costume ideas but nothing too concrete formed in regards to dress until a couple weeks before the first show. Cast members were given suggestions and Cleo had taken a personal interest in ensuring that her fellow actors met her personal standards. 

Ponce didn’t require much help. The first rehearsal involving costumes he entered the auditorium wearing his trademark leather jacket and a pair of jeans and both Marie & Cleo stopped to compliment him, “You look great Ponce. Stud-like.”

“James Dean-esque.”

In all honesty Ponce has forgotten that it was a rough dress rehearsal and had just come wearing the first set of clean clothes that he could pull out of the closet. “I’m wearing my normal clothes.” He explained. So maybe he was more than a bit fitting for the role of a 1950s themed punk.... “Glad to see it works.”

Marie laughed and the three joined the rest of the cast in preparing for the rehearsal. While Cleo was more focused on getting her lines down and ensuring that everyone’s hair, make up, and clothes were on point, Marie handled the scheduling. “We’re just finishing up the first line of costuming. After this we have the linger-“

From across the room a familiar voice called out, “Ponce-o! Check it out! I’m punk!”

The great thing about Rocky Horror was it allowed room for various productions to add their own special touches to the costumes. Brad and Janet had to look like dweebs, like the all-American teens of the 1950s, so the crew had fun with it. Gene Kelly was outfitted with thick, fake, circular framed glasses, a pale blue polo shirt tucked into khakis, and a pocket protector. Considering how handsome and well-built Gene Kelly was it garnered a laugh from the rest of the cast and crew to see him looking like the king of the dorks. Cleo’s Janet costume was softer. A pale blue button up blouse and poodle skirt, an old style clutch purse and she was perfect. As fun as making two of the hottest kids in school look nerdy was, it was even more entertaining trying to make the American dreamboat Jack look like a menace to society. 

Leather was the first choice and someone supplied a pair of leather pants that Jack managed to squeeze into but they were nearly impossible to dance in, no matter how good they made his ass look. Jeans were the next option. Someone brought forward and old pair, tattered at the knees and stained with red, blue, and orange paint. Jack could move in them and a studded black belt was added to the ensemble to punk it up. The need for leather resulted in a pair of leather boots. As for a shirt someone suggested fishnet. Cleo put forth the idea of placing black Xs in tassel-tape over her Ex’s nipples and gab him a fishnet shirt to go over it. JFK surprisingly had no objections. Not even when someone in hair and make-up told him that his pompadour wouldn’t make the cut for the stage. They gelled his hair, made it messy, and even convinced Jack to try dying the tips of her wild colours like blue, pink, and purple. Now Jack stood before Ponce, grinning wildly and spinning around to show everything off, and it was like he was looking at a different JFK clone entirely. One that had been created in the 1970s and got really into The Sex Pistols. 

Ponce was honest in his reply. “That’s hot.” 

It would seem that Cleo would agree. Creeping up behind the unsuspecting JFK, she made the bold move to copy Ponce’s favourite method of surprising her, and slapped Jack’s ass. The boy jumped but seeing it was only Cleo messing around, laughed it off. “Not bad Kennedy. Not bad at all.” “I’m excited to see you after the costume change-“

“Costume change?” Jack asked. Considering the effort that was put into making him look punk, Jack just assumed he was supposed to look like this for the entire show. “You mean I’m not a punk all night?”

“No.” Marie tried to explain. “After Dr. Frankenfurter turns everyone to stone, he reanimated them during The Rose Tint My World number which is done in a burlesque style. So the characters are changed out of their original costumes and into something more fitting to the number.”

“Oh.” It was probably in his best interest to actually watch a production of the show before taking it on himself but when JFK had tried renting the movie from the local Blockbuster it had been sold out. So he put it off, read the script, and assumed that was it. But Marie and Cleo were in control of the production and they hadn’t lead him astray so fair, so he’d trust the girls. “Cool. So when do I get to see my costume for that?”

“Come with me.” Cleo said and latched onto Jack’s arm. “I’m getting fitted too.” 

~~~~

“I’m not coming out.” 

Two make-shift changing stalls had been set up behind the stage in the theatre department’s storage space. Cleo and JFK were scheduled to try their second costumes, were given them, and entered the stalls shortly after. Cleo emerged from behind her curtain a few minutes later, confidently striking an overtly dramatic pose in the iconic red and black lingerie that was to be expected for the musical’s finale. Seeing her in the corset, fishnets, and panties, and Marie was reminded of why Cleo was selected for the part of Janet. While the queen bee was unconvincing as an innocent, virginal school girl who had only ever had eyes for one all American boy, she was a perfect fit for the sexually liberated and jaw dropping version of Janet. No one else could pull the part off with such confidence, all the while securing the attendance of nearly every man in town. Marie didn’t blame them. If she were a man or gay, she would have bought a ticket just to see Cleo on stage in the finale herself.

While Cleo strutted around the room like model on the catwalk, JFK hesitated to leave the safety of his stall. Marie waited. And waited. And Cleo joined her. And the pair waited some more but still the presidential clone remained hidden behind the curtain. He finally called out to the girls, told them that he had no intentions of leaving, and Cleo groaned. Just like Jack to throw a wrench in her plans, “Come on! We have to see what the finished product looks like!”

JFK didn’t move a muscle. The curtain remained shut, “You could have warned me that I’d have to be doing drag to be in this show!”

Marie raised an eyebrow, “Wearing lingerie isn’t drag-“

“Ladies’ lingerie!” JFK exclaimed. “Not comin’ out. Nope. Staying in here.”

“Jack-“

“Couldn’t we switch to boxers? Or boxer briefs? Something a little more..manly?”

“You’re missing the point of the story-“

“Look the corset thing I can maybe deal with but I can’t handle all-“ The argument between the presidential and scientist clones was going nowhere and Cleo quickly grew tired of it. Being a woman of action she walked up to Jack’s stall and yanked the curtain back. JFK, for all his complaining, had put the entire costume on before checking himself out in the nearby mirror set up inside the stall and making his decision to remain hidden. He screamed and backed up as far as he could to get away from the girls, “CLEO!”

“Woah.” JFK looked good. Well...he always looked good, but there was something to be said about a well built man with a perfect ass wearing a sparkly red corset and dark fishnets that ran up his long, milky white legs. Marie felt the colour rush to her face and turned to look away while Cleo looked her former flame up and down with a slightly impressed, slightly hungry gaze, “Not bad at all Kennedy. Not bad at all.”

“Pervert!” JFK screamed and attempted to cover up as much of himself as he could with his hands. It wasn’t working. “This is crossing way too many lines I’m not-“

“Jack?”

Ponce had only come back to grab a prop for the next scene that had been forgotten when the crew kids had been back collecting items. He hadn’t counted on running into Marie blushing and Cleo practically devouring his boyfriend with her eyes while JFK attempted to cover himself the curtain to the stall he was hiding in to little avail. Ponce could see everything...

“H-hey Ponce...” JFK said. He grabbed onto the curtain and tried to regain some of his dignity by pulling it back across. JFK must have misjudged the amount of strength necessary to put the curtain back in place because he ended up ripping the curtain off completely. Standing there in red & black lingerie, torn privacy curtain in his hands, his boyfriend standing just a few feet away, JFK attempted to explain himself. “...this probably looks weird...”

The greaser remained rooted in the doorway, looking the other boy over from head to toe and mulling over the proper response. After a couple seconds of blankly staring at his boyfriend in a red & black sparkly corset, panties, fishnets, and heels, Ponce finally seemed to take it all in and gets his words together. His eyes meet Jack’s and he couldn’t contain his grin, “You know what babe? Red really is your colour.”

JFK hadn’t been expecting that response. He dropped the curtain. “Re-really?” 

“Absolutely.” Ponce assured him. “You’re a total dime piece!”

Jack was a victim of his own toxic masculinity though he was improving and learning with every passing day, often as a result of his friends’ constant reassurance and support. He knew they wouldn’t lead him astray, especially not Ponce. When Ponce De Leon said he looked good, Jack knew he looked good. The presidential clone looked down at himself, trying to see for himself and solidify Ponce’s opinion. A mirror’s opinion was useless to Jack compared to Ponce’s. He swallowed and nodded slowly, “I guess I could wear it on stage. Seein’ as I’m makin’ it look so good...And I’ll just kick the asses of anyone who thinks differently!”

A good plan, a solid plan, a plan that Jack should have thought of ten minutes earlier and saved themselves the drama. Especially considering how many fights JFK found himself in during his time spent in school. At least five a year thought to be fair most of them were ones he did not start. The sudden confidence did something to him, seemed to give him this air of untouchability or almost divinity. Marie pointed out that he needed to go speak with the crew on how to enter for his final number and JFK was on her arm, urging the scientist clone to lead the way with the charming smile of someone who knew that they were sex on legs. Ponce and Cleo watched them leave with mild amusement. JFK really was an interesting boy. 

“So...” Ponce drawed out and Cleo noticed the greaser purposefully slid close enough to her for him to wrap his arm around her shoulders in some false display of comradurely. It didn’t take a genius to realize he was up to something but Cleo was curious and didn’t knock his arm away. “What’s going to happen to that costume after the show’s over?”

“Trash probably. Why?” The queen bee asked and Ponce’s response was to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively. It took her a second to realize what he was suggesting but when she did, Cleo elbowed the greaser as hard as she could in the gut. “You’re fucking disgusting.” 

Ponce coughed and doubled over, his arms wrapped around in his stomach in pain, but once he regained himself the greaser grinned up at her and laughed, “Like you weren’t thinking the same thing.” 

She was but Ponce didn’t need to know that. 


	14. Prompt 14: Greek Mythology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other Fic-writers: Oh a Greek mythology Prompt? I guess I’ll do a cool Percy Jackson thing where these characters are the demigod children of these gods/goddesses. 
> 
> Me (a goblin mythology nerd who just finished reading the Iliad for a college course): *banging fists on the table* ACHILLES AND PATROCLUS AU! ACHILLES AND PATROCLUS AU!
> 
> *offscreen character death*

The man lounging behind her, gingerly picking at grapes and wrapped up in a make-shift cocoon of blankets was dangerous. Joan had seen first hand the power that existed inside the demigod. Many a battle, just as it appeared that the Achaean forces would fall, their secret weapon would appear and make the hillsides run red with blood. He was their best fighter by a long shot, a stunning achievement considering he had entered the field of battle shortly before his fifteenth birthday and remained in action for nearly ten years. Some of his glory could be attributed to his father’s status as a God. The children of the gods, though rare and far between, were relatively unstoppable when set into play but they were also unstable. And Joan has seen that side of the man too. Had he been a normal, mortal man, perhaps they would not be waiting in a tent on the edge of a war zone waiting to receive word from the front lines.

“Ponce has been gone awhile.” She said finally. From her viewpoint she couldn’t see much of the action but still she tried to search for some sign of his face. “I hope everything is alright.”

The man behind her popped another grape into his mouth. “I warned him to stay clear of the walls.” He replied as he chewed. “Ponce is not one to disobey. I’m sure that he is fine.”

Obedience or not Joan found it impossible to shake her concerns, “You are immortal Jack, Ponce is not. For that I will always worry.”

She didn’t turn back to face the man but she could hear the shuffling of the blankets as Jack freed himself from his homemade prison of comfort and stride over to stand at her side. He was an impressive man, even outside the heat of battle. In another life, Joan could imagine them together in his homeland or hers, victorious and triumphant in both battle and marriage. But that was another life. They were both comfortable in this one. Should they survive the war, she would gather her fleet and sail home to her beautiful Ithaca where her father, her husband and child awaited her return, and Jack would sail to his own kingdom to assume the throne. And Ponce, the man in question, would follow him. As seen with the war itself, Ponce would follow Jack anywhere. 

Jack placed his hand on his comrade’s shoulder and squeezed. If he wanted to he could make it hurt. Without thinking about it Jack could kill her then and there but then, he would be alone in his misery now wouldn’t he? 

“I am not immortal. You know that.” Jack reminded her. “I am fated to die here, he is not. For that I have no worries.”

~~~

It had been days since Jack abandoned his sword and retreated to the safety of his tent. Not that he didn’t  want to fight. Jack had been breed for battle, killing and fighting were the only things he seemed to excel above the rest at, but he could not carry a sword happily under the leadership of someone so cruel and disrespectful. The second Lincoln laid claim to the war prize he had personally bestowed upon Jack as the second he lost the deadliest man in Greece. It did not take long for Lincoln and the Acheans to come crawling back, begging forgiveness, but Jack was not merciful. He had no desire to help the man who had so boldly insulted him and neither did his godly father. So Jack waited in his tent, for the ship that would take him and his companion Ponce home, or for a proper apology to appear. 

Ponce didn’t say much after Jack left the army. He followed him, as he always did, but he was distant. While Jack ate grapes and drank and played the other man’s lyre, Ponce stood at the doorway to their tent and tried to see the carnage. It broke his heart, Jack could tell, to see their friends being slaughtered as such but Jack could not budge. He was nothing if not a man of honour. 

At breakfast one day as Jack was picking at the meal of oats and berries prepared for him, Ponce made his intentions clear. “We need to help them Jack. They’re dying.”

Jack did not attempt to look up from his breakfast and swallowed another spoonful, “Good. Perhaps this failure will teach Lincoln a much needed lesson in humility.”

Now Ponce may not have been a demigod like his companion nor as strong as Jack, but the man was no weakling. He did not end up at Jack’s side because of his sunny disposition alone. The mortal slammed his hands down in frustration at the other’s stubbornness upsetting Jack’s breakfast in the process. “These are our friends Jack!”

Jack sighed and set his spoon down on the table beside the now overturned bowl. “And it pains my heart to know that. But I am not one to let such a crude display against my honour go unpunished. I come to Troy, knowin’ that I am fated to die here, of my own free will and I am repaid by havin’ my prize seized from me in front of our troops.” It wasn’t the prize. About was about the disregard for the sacrifices Jack made to be there with them. He was, potentially, offering up his life and Lincoln, their commander, the brother of the husband who launched the war to begin with, did not care. It was a slap in the face to Jack’s charity. “No. I will not give until Lincoln does.”

Ponce rolled his eyes, “Lincoln has been hurt and is off the field of battle-“ he tried to explain but Jack just laughed him off. 

“Good. My only regret is that the wound was not fatal.” 

“Jack!” Ponce exclaimed. “He has offered you vast riches, kingdoms, the hand of his own beloved for christ’s sake-“

“I do not want his scraps.” Jack scoffed. “Besides my hand, and my heart, belongs to anotha.”

He stood up quickly before Ponce had the chance to process what the other man was doing and stepped close to him, his arms wrapping around Ponce’s shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. Ponce had to fight back the urge to laugh. Here he was pleading for the safety of their friends and Jack’s return to battle and his companion’s only concern was carnal desires. He could feel in poking into his hip. Jack’s two favourite things to do both began with the letter F; fighting and fucking and since he wasn’t fighting...

Ponce buried his face into Jack’s shoulder and against the fabric of his tunic mumbled, “We should never have come here.”

“I know.” Jack said softly and suddenly the air around them grew tender. That carnal, primal side to the demigod was gone and it was only the scared, sensitive boy who remained. “I fear that I will never see the shores of my beloved homeland again. Or the faces of my adoptive parents. Though my father speaks with me at times. He is worried. He also believes that we should never have come to Troy.”

Ponce had never seen the god that sired his beloved but he had heard them converse a number of times. At night, when they suspected that Ponce was sleeping, he heard them speak in hushed tones about the critical conditions escalating around them. He did not want his son to die but was powerless to stop the other gods from allowing it. Jack did not want to die but he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. He wanted to be a great hero whose name was passed from parent to child for generations. He could not do that by returning to his homeland and being a modest king. Both knew, but hid the fact, that Jack was born to die here. 

Jack’s father had tried to stop his son from heading to Troy but it was inevitable. “He warned you,” Ponce stated. “Then again you were always too stubborn to listen.”

“Ponce-“ Jack started to say. 

“Stubbornness is your weakness not that blasted heel.” Ponce added. “It is your foolish pride that will damn us all to hades.”

Jack let go of the other man and took a step back as though Ponce had burned him. Perhaps he was being too harsh towards his companion? It could not have been easy to constantly charged into battle knowing that any day now you were going to die. Ponce reached for Jack but the demigod gently rebuffed him, “I cannot fight. Not now. I do not expect you to understand. I am nothing without my honour and I cannot return to battle yet. But I can help our friends.” 

At the back of the tent near the make-shift bed where Ponce and Jack slept was a chest that had been drug to Troy with them. Though Ponce had never opened it he knew what was stored there. Jack had never been one to leave swords and gear around their living quarters like some of their fellow soldiers. Jack picked the lock and popped the lid off the chest, reached inside and produced something that was capable of striking fear into the hearts of warriors without so much as a second glance. The demigod held it up to his companion as an offering, “Take my armour. To the Trojans it will be my second comin’. Most will flee at the very sight of it in battle and those who remain will tremble and seize up with fear at your approach. But the Achaeans will know. Lincoln will know that this act of mercy comes not out of forgiveness, but as a favour to our friends.”

Ponce accepted the armour with a gentle smile and began the task of putting it on. “Thank you Jack.”

Jack watched him dress and assisted Ponce in securing some of the bigger pieces. It was of critical importance that no one saw his face. Ponce could not afford to be himself on the battlefield this time, he had to be Jack. The demigod continued to explain his plan to his beloved, “Stay away from the walls of Troy. Drive forces back but do not attempt to gain ground we’ve yet to lay claim to. We are not winning the war. We are merely assisting.”

“Yes Sir.” Ponce replied and gave the other man a playful nudge. In this tragic times they needed some source of comic relief every now and then. 

Ponce finished dressing and selected Jack’s prized spear from the chest. Jack saw him to the door and leaned underneath Ponce’s helmet to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“I’ll see you on the other side.” Ponce replied and entered the fray. 

~~~

Joan arrived at Jack’s tent shortly after lunch. She had been injured, though it was minor, and was out of commission for the next few days. Life at the Achaean camp was dull and dreary and needing some spark of life, she sough the company of the retiring warrior. There she was quickly informed of Ponce’s ruse and any hope of relaxation flew away. Joan would not rest easy until the man was standing in the tent with them, celebrating their victory over the Trojans. Jack, as clam as he had ever been, simply ate his lunch and waited. 

Someone came running up to Jack’s tent and burst in without asking for an invitation to enter. It was Vincent, a messenger employed by Lincoln to distribute news from the front lines to forces at rest. His face was red and streaked with tears and the boy appeared to be in a panic. “My lords!” He all but screamed, “My lords!”

Jack stood slowly and he and Joan encircled the boy. Joan grabbed ahold of Vincent by the shoulders and forced him to remain still, “Speak.” She commanded. “By the hand of Athena I command you to speak!”

“It’s Ponce, my lords!” Vincent exclaimed. “He has been struck down and killed by the crown prince of Troy himself!”

“Prince Detlef? The fiend!” Joan shouted and it took her a moment to realize the weight of Vincent’s words. Ponce was dead. One of the best souls in the Achaean army and the right-hand-man of their secret weapon had died in battle. Something heavy settled into her gut and Joan knew that to get any sense of resolution she had to see his body for herself. There were hundreds of Greek soldiers. Perhaps Vincent had been mistaken. “Where is the body? Please take me to the body-“

Joan’s pleas were cut off by the most painful, powerful wail of anguish that she had ever heard. Jack collapsed to the ground and screamed out his pain. Outside the tent, on the bloody fields of Troy, four Trojan soldiers grabbed at their chests and collapsed to the ground dead. They had heard that voice before. They knew it to be the demigod Jack and worse yet, they knew that he was in a great deal of pain spurred on by the death of his beloved. The thought of Jack, mourning and in a rage that could destroy Ares himself, taking the battlefield and charging towards them with sword drawn caused their hearts to seize up and stop. Far below Troy, in the depths of the oceans, the god Poseidon heard his cry of grief and felt a sudden overwhelming sadness spread through his body, as did the nyriads and oceanic nymphs that made the seas their home. Above Troy in the realm of Olympus, the mighty Zeus heard the scream and it brought a tear to his eye. Jack’s father, who had hovered close to the king of the gods, fell to his knees and beat his fists against the ground. He knew this was it. His only son no longer had a reason to live. Any attempt to spare him from an early death at Troy had failed. In a matter of days, his child would be buried and joining his beloved in hades. He lost him. 

Back at Troy Vincent had taken the precaution of stepping as far back and away from Jack as possible while Joan tried to reason with the demigod. “Jack!” She called out to him. “Jack please-“

Jack was long gone. The demigod jumped to his feet and snatched a sword from his chest. With a battlecry that could shake the earth Jack charged out of his tent and rejoined the fray. 

Jack was fated to die in Troy. He never suspected that Ponce may have been too. 


	15. Prompt 15: Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The boys get into some fights in this one. It gets gross. Just a heads up. Now I got to go to bed. I have work in like eight hours and I stayed up to write this.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Who’s that?”

Ponce had taken to spending his mornings in the music room before class started. Being the janitor’s son, he was used to getting up early and being on campus long before any of his classmates even woke up. It didn’t phase him any. He was an early riser and it gave him time to work on some tunes before class. Some of the other musically inclined students learned of this and joined him in this early morning practice session and low and behold the Clone High music club took shape. Welcome to anyone with a passion for music, Ponce was used to entering the room to find a new face strumming away on a guitar or pounding the drums, but he always knew their names having passed them in the hall before. This day, however, he had no idea who the guy rocking out on the guitar was. 

The guy was about his age but tall and well built. Without knowing for sure Ponce would have to guess that he was around 6’3, maybe taller, and capable of benching 220. His hair was a shoulder length riot of chocolate brown curls against naturally bronzed skin and behind a pair of thin, fashionable glasses were an enchanting pair of olive green eyes. Despite there being a record breaking heatwave happening outside the guy was wearing a maroon coloured beanie, a red and black flannel shirt over a basic black t-shirt, a pair of tight skinny jeans, and hiking boots. He looked ready to drop his instrument and head off into the woods on a hike, not go to class. 

Buddy Holly, who had been observing the new comer, answered, “New kid. He’s a clone of Alexander the Great.”

Ponce nodded when he suddenly noticed the problem with that statement, “Wait. How can there be a new kid? I thought we were cloned in batches. Did he transfer from some other cloning project?”

“Naw. His parents left town with him after realizing they were part of a government experiment. The school finally found them again and convinced them to move back.” Buddy explained as if the fact that they were part of a government conspiracy was a common occurrence for most teenagers. Well, their collective conceptions were still more pleasant to think about than the natural alternative. “What do you think Ponce?”

Everyone in school believed that Ponce was the authority on all things cool. Somehow this soft spoken greaser had managed to steal their collective hearts and having the seal of approval from Ponce went a long way in improving a person’s social status. The greaser looked the other boy, who had yet to notice his growing crowd, over and a smile appeared on his face. “Seems cool enough. I’m going to go introduce myself.”

Leaving Buddy Holly in the doorway Ponce stepped further into the music room and approached the new kid. Seeing the other boy headed toward him the new kid stopped playing but held his guitar close. It was a beautiful instrument. A cherry red electric like Ponce had always wanted. The greaser nodded a hello, “Hey. I’m Ponce.”

A knowing, cocky smile twitched onto the other boy’s face. “Yeah, you are.” He mumbled under his breath but quickly added in a normal speaking voice, “I’m Alex. Friends call me Axel.”

“Cool. Cool.” Axel was a great name for a guitar player. Ponce could see that. “You play guitar?”

Axel gestured to the instrument in his hands, “A bit. Electric only. Self taught. You know, needed something to do to pass the time in Memphis.” 

“You’re from Memphis? Alright-“

“No. I’m from here. But I lived in Memphis. And LA, New York, Malibu, Tampa, Boston, London, Paris, Athens, Venice...But I’m rambling.” Axel stopped himself but something about his faux-boredom tone of voice told Ponce that he could continue listing off cool cities he once inhabited for the rest of the day. Axel set his prized guitar back in its stand and gestured to Ponce, “So what’s your deal? Is it a theme day or something?”

A theme day? Ponce’s face scrunched up in confusion. What would make him think it was a theme day? “No. Why would you think that?”

“So you’re wearing that jacket for reals?” Axel asked with a short, snort-like laugh. “Aww shit man I wish I was that confident. Merging the 50s with the 90s and them parachute pants. It’s bold. I’ll give you that.”

Why did Ponce suddenly feel the growing urge to sock this guy right in the nose? Shaking it off as an awakened first impression the greaser decided to respond with his trademark patience and chillness while also getting the fuck out of there. “Thanks. I got class in five minutes. Im going to go.”

Alex nodded and flashed the other boy the peace sign as he was heading out, “Alright. Peace out brother.” 

Ponce didn’t know why but he got a weird feeling from this guy...

~~~

Axel wasn’t in any of Ponce’s classes and though he knew it wasn’t fair to judge Axel by one strange comment made during their first encounter, he still found himself relieved every time he entered a classroom and found it to be lacking any hipsters. The bell for lunch rang and Ponce left his English class with every intention of heading to his locker to grab his lunch and pack of smokes. As he rounded the corner leading to the lockers though he noticed that a large crowd had amassed near the benches in front of the gym. Curiosity got the better of him and Ponce made his way to the front to get a look for himself. He found Catherine and asked her, “What’s going on here?”

He didn’t need to ask. The closer he got to the edge of the crowd, the clearer the picture got. Axel was sitting on one of the benches, a girl on both arms, strumming his guitar and mumbling nonsense words in an attempt to sound deep and soulful. Worse yet the crowd was buying it!

Catherine latched onto Ponce’s arm and started to bounce up and down like a child who had just met their hero or received a new puppy, “Hey Ponce! Have you met the new kid yet? He’s so cool! Did you know he has his helicopter license? Could you imagine him flying that to school someday? So cool!”

“Helicopter huh?” Ponce had to call bullshit on that one. No way someone would let their kid get helicopter lessons before he could drive a car. “Good luck trying to park that.” 

Once Axel decided he was done trying to win the crowd over with music he set his guitar aside and started to describe all theadventures he had gotten into overseas during his parents’ travels. After the first three stories Ponce noticed a similar theme of sexual exploits behind them. “-So I there I was butt naked in this hotel jacuzzi with the clone of Mary Wollstonecraft and the clone of Queen Elizabeth the first and we decide to take it up a level. I don’t like to kiss and tell but let’s just say they can’t call Lizzie the virgin queen anymore!”

Ponce flashed Catherine and scoffed, “So he’s just telling the world about those girls’ secrets. What a nice guy.”

The Russian clone giggled and judged her friend playfully. “Oh! Someone’s feeling saucy today!”

Ponce rolled his eyes, “Whatever. I just get a weird vibe from this guy.”

It was about then Axel noticed the greaser lurking in the crowd and a giant, shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Hey, Hey, Hey, If it isn’t the Fonz! Eyyyyy!” The Greek all but screamed and threw his thumbs up in the classic Fonzie pose. The crowd erupted in laughter while Ponce remained stoic. Seeing that the greaser wasn’t amused, Axel dropped his hands at his side, “I’m just fucking with you man. How the fuck’s going?”

“Hey Alex.” Ponce replied. 

“Uh, Uh, Uh, it’s Axel dude. Axel.” The Greek corrected him. “So I heard through the grapevine that you’re the one who owns that Harley outside? That’s a fine machine bro.”

Huh. Maybe the boys really had just gotten off on the wrong foot. So Axel was a bit loud, a bit cocky, a bit boisterous, maybe that was just how he connected with people like another popular guy Ponce knew. Motorcycles could be their common ground! Ponce smiled a little, “Uh, Yeah. Thanks, I try to keep-“

Axel didn’t give him the chance to continue. He threw his head back and laughed, patting the nearest girl so hard on the back that she tumbled off the bench. “Man when you commit to a bit you really commit! I love it! I love this guy! You know some people can make their own personalities over a period of years and decent, healthy relationships, this guy just downloads his from a happy days dvd!” 

A wave of giggles and snickers swept through the crowd and Ponce could feel the colour slowly starting to rush to his face. As gently as he could, the greaser pushed Catherine off of his arm and stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. “Whatever man. I’m going to lunch.” 

His lunch and smokes were stored securely in his locker but Ponce didn’t feel like having to cross by the group twice. He could last one day without a sandwich and a cigarette. The greaser spun around and started walking in the direction of the cafeteria. Halfway down the hall Axel shouted after him, “Hey, Hey Ponce, you gonna go grab a malt? You remember malts buddy? Get it? Hahaha!”

~~~

All of Ponce’s troubles seemed to fade away the second he stepped into the cafeteria and saw a familiar, handsome face occupying one of the tables and waiting for him. Even before they were dating Ponce could always count on Jack to save him a seat and some of his desert. A small smile managed to appear on the greaser’s face and he made his way over to the table. Before sitting down next to Jack, Ponce took the time to lean in and give the other boy a quick kiss. Ponce quickly sat down, hoping to forget everything that had happened this morning, but Jack had known the greaser for too long. Even when though he was smiling, JFK could tell that there was something wrong with his best friend, “Hey babe. Is everything alright?”

“It’s nothing. Just having a bit of a rough morning.” Ponce explained. Noticing that Ponce didn’t have anything to eat with him, JFK slid his order of fries over so it was between the two of them and they could share. Ponce snagged a fry before asking, “How are you?”

“I’m okay. I had this weird feeling in the back of my throat when I woke up this morning but it’s gone. Probably just sore from yesterday.” Jack explained, “Speaking of which, what do you say we make it a little more sore after history class?” 

“You dirty boy...” If it hadn’t been for a familiar hipster strolling into the cafeteria like he owned the place, scanning around until his eyes fell on Ponce, and his face lighting up in what could only be described as devious malice, the two could have kept going. In a way it was good that Axel had interrupted them. He could very well have been saving the two boys from escalating their ‘pillow-talk’ and having to make a mad dash to the nearest closet it to fuck it out before class. Still Ponce didn’t want to deal with him. He slammed his head onto the desk, “Aww shit.”

Axel bounded over to the pair like a puppy who was just seeing their owner for the first time after a long work day. Without asking or even waiting for an invitation to join them, Alex plopped himself down across from the two boys and leaned on his elbows across the table, “Well if it isn’t Arthur Fonzerelli and Potsie Webber? And I never thought I’d see a reunion show live! How’s the grub boys?” He stole a French fry from JFK’s lunch, took a bite, and promptly spat it out onto the floor. “Aww this tastes like cardboard!”

JFK tilted his head to the side hoping the change of angle may help him identify the stranger who had just helped himself to the popular kids’ table and JFK’s own lunch. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Axel, I’m new. And you are...?”

“JFK. Like the president.”

“No fucking way. You’re a legend man! Marilyn Monroe motherfucker!” 

“Hell Yeah man! That’s me! Well...technically my clone dad but I hooked up with the clone of Marilyn Monroe too so you know. Same difference.”

“So what’s your deal? You still a player?”

“I don’t like to brag but I got around, got myself a nice little black book going, but I’m taking slow these days. Sex is fine and dandy but love is love, you know?” JFK gave Ponce a playful nudge but the greaser had no interest in playing this little game with Axel right now. He met his gaze directed straight ahead, staring past Axel and into space, hoping for something, for anything, to come and end this torture. 

“I feel you man.” Axel said in response. “You’re one of the few people I’ve met today who gets it. Who isn’t being fake to impress ol’axel.”

JFK snorted at the very thought of having to be fake to impress someone, “Why would I stress myself out trying to impress some new kid?”

“Aww man. You’re an honest dude. I can feel it.”

Ponce wondered how long it would take until Axel was grating on JFK’s nerves too. Some dark, wicked thought in the back of Ponce’s mind warmed him that this may not be a temporary subject. That JFK and Axel had a fair bit in common and that this could be problematic in the long run but Ponce ignored. He just had to get through the day and then everything would be back to normal. In the meantime he just had to deal with these two bonding over his boyfriend’s past exploits with other people. Great. The greaser groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Oh brother...”

~~~~

Axel didn’t get an easier to handle in the weeks that followed. While he and Ponce had no classes together that didn’t stop Axel from popping up every time the greaser thought he may luck out and have a moment of peace. Lunches in the cafeteria quickly saw the new addition to the school joining the popular kids’ table and making himself at home there. Most days he would show up after the others had already gotten their food and help himself to their trays but somedays he would arrive with the group and wedge himself between Ponce and JFK, absorbing the jock’s entire attention and prattling on and on about sports, girls, cars, whatever topic plagued his mind, all the while Ponce sat on the other side of Axel silently scarfing down cold food and waiting for lunch to end. He may as well have been on another planet those days. Though rare and far between, Ponce’s blood always found a way to boil when entering the lunch room and noticing Axel lurking as he waited for them. Some of the other students began to notice how, on the days where Axel sat between JFK and his boyfriend, the prep and the greaser would be late coming into the class that followed, clothes and hair disheveled and messy, donning goofy smiles. The other students may have noticed but JFK seemed to have no idea that on the days that Axel sat between them, it was a guarantee that after they finished eating Ponce would pull him into the nearest empty classroom and they’d get busy. JFK hadn’t been paying that much attention. 

Ponce stopped showing up to music club meetings when it became clear to him that Axel was using the time to brag about how he was a ‘self-taught genius’ and look down his noise at the other members’ music choices. He opted, instead, to stick around after school to practice but it wasn’t long until Axel started to infest that part of Ponce’s life as well. 

“Do you mind? I’m trying to practice.” 

Ponce entered the music room right after classes ended and attempted to lock the door behind him but to no avail. Someone had busted the lock so privacy was no longer an option. He tried to make the best of it, pulled his guitar out from his case and sat down to play. Ponce was about halfway through Carry On My Wayward Son when the door to the music room slammed open and Axel came rushing in with a guitar case in one hand, dragging an amp behind him with the other. He waved a hello to Ponce, plugged his amp in, and proceeded to wail away on the instrument without hesitation. Ponce’s eyes nearly rolled back into his skull and, fully aware that he wouldn’t get any further practice in, set his guitar back in his case.

“Well so am I. And I’m louder. So...sorry but yeah.” Axel replied and struck another thunderous chord to prove his point. He laughed at his own shitty attempt at humour when his eyes fell back at the doorway. The Greek licked his lips. “Well, well, well it appears that I have a groupie already.”

Ponce looked back to the door and breathed a sigh of relief at who stood there. “It’s just Jack.” He said, “Hey babe, what’s up?”

“Track and field practice ended early so I thought I’d come hear you play.” Jack said, leaning against the doorframe. “Oh hey Axel. I didn’t realize you played guitar too?”

“And I didn’t realize that you were on the track and field team. Not too shabby. You know that I used to be the captain of my team back in Brussels. Retired from the sport when me and the folks had to move back to Barcelona.” Axel said. He set his guitar down and used it to lean on while he peered at the boy standing in the doorway. Ponce grit his teeth and weighed the pros and cons of punching his boyfriend’s new friend in his mind. “You know, track and field athletes have the best legs. Strong, muscular, sexy legs-“

Ponce’s hands clenched up into fists and he was about to go for it, repercussions aside, but Jack stopped him without meaning too. Axel’s comment about his legs seemed to go right over JFK’s head as he asked, “Barcelona. That’s Spain, right? You know Ponce is originally from Spain?”

“Oh. So I guess instead of saying eyyyy I should be saying elllll, Huh?” Axel asked with a laugh. This joke managed to get a laugh out of JFK, albeit a pathetic one, while Ponce remained stone-faced. He really hated this guy. “Come on dude. Lighten up. I’m just fucking with ya.”

Ponce crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave Axel his best ‘are-you-kidding-me’ face. The Greek rolled his eyes and waved to JFK, “Jackie gets it.” 

Jackie? Since when did anyone but Ponce call JFK Jackie? “Yeah. Yeah Jackie gets it.” The greaser mumbled and walked towards the door. He grabbed JFK’s hand and Ponce could practically feel the daggers Axel was glaring into him. Well let him. Axel could play the role of hot shit all he wanted but he’d never get Jack. “Let’s get going.”

To drive the point home Ponce leaned in and pressed his lips against Jack’s. The kiss was deep, wet, and loud. During Ponce dared to open an eye and peak at the Greek being forced to bare witness to their PDA. Axel looked pissed. Good. That would teach him to make offhand remarks about another man’s boyfriend’s legs.

~~~~

Ponce couldn’t keep JFK from seeing Axel. He didn’t want to be the type of boyfriend who controlled his partner’s social life and he had no idea how to break it to him that Axel wasn’t who he portrayed himself to be. So they remained friends and Ponce remained bitter, though he did an excellent job at hiding it. He was less subtle about his pettiness towards the matter. The worst example, or perhaps the best depending on your position, happened at one of JFK’s famous parties. His parents were out of town, the place was stocked with booze, and things were quickly spiraling out of control. Ponce spent the night close to Jack’s side, not necessarily out of possessiveness but out of desire to be near his boyfriend, and by all accounts the night was going smoothly when a familiar voice shattered Ponce’s vision of tranquility. From across the living room Axel shouted to them, “Sick party Jackie-man! Total rager!” 

JFK grinned and waved the other boy over. Axel sprinted over to the couple and high-fived the jock. JFK laughed and wrapped an arm around the hipster, “Hey Axel! I was hopin’ to run into you tonight? C’mon, we’re doing body shots!”

The kitchen had been cleared out to make room for the game. An empty beer bottle was placed in the middle of a crowd of participants. The ingredients, salt and sliced limes, shots, were set off to the side on the table to be accessed when needed. Jack strode around the room, a high school king, and explained how the game was played. “The rules are simple. Spin the bottle and whoeva it lands on has to do the shot off of you. Then it’s their turn to spin and so on and so on.” The presidential clone clapped his hands together and looked around the room eagerly. “Who’s up first?”

Axel tipped the beer he had been nursing in JFK’s direction. “Man of the hour.” 

Seeing as no one had any objections, Jack knelt down and gave the bottle a spin. It circled the room a few times before stopping and pointing directly at the new kid in school. Axel grinned and handed his beer off to one of his cronies also standing in the circle. JFK pulled his shirt off and laid down on the floor, remaining stiff as a board as guests got the body shot ready. Axel hovered over the other boy, his face inches away from Jack’s and he stuck his tongue in an imitation of Gene Simmons before moving down to Jack’s stomach to take the shot. After that everything became a blur. Ponce saw red, nothing but a bright, vibrant, blood red and he imagined ripping Axel’s head clear off his shoulders. It was only when Jack was standing back beside him, hand clamped on Ponce’s shoulder and singing Axel’s praises that Ponce snapped out of it, “Axel is such a cool dude! Can you believe it Ponce?”

“No, no I can’t.” 

“What was that?” JFK asked but Ponce didn’t give him a straightforward answer. Instead he grabbed onto Jack’s hips and pulled him close, capturing the other boy’s lips and ravishing his mouth in an overtly sloppy display. Without breaking the kiss the greaser backed them up into the nearest wall, pinning Jack there, and started to grind against him. JFK broke the kiss with a loud, wanton moan and buried his hands in Ponce’s hair. The rest of the assembled guests in the kitchen slowly began to inch out into the rest of the house, all except for Axel who watched the couple with flames in his eyes. 

Ponce pulled away just long enough for JFK to regain his breath and barked an order, “Upstairs.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t a hint. It was a demand. One that JFK was eager to fulfill. The presidential clone brought his hand to his forehead in a false-salute,

“Yes Sir!”

~~~~

In the days that followed JFK’s rager Axel no longer made any attempts to hide his distaste for Ponce. To be fair Ponce hadn’t exactly been hiding his dislike of Axel to begin with. This came with both its perks and cons. On the one hand Axel no longer ate lunch at the popular kids’ table, opting to take his lunches off school property, but on the other that meant Ponce had no idea what he was planning or saying behind the greaser’s back. Or at least he didn’t until he stumbled upon Axel having a nice little chat with Isaac Newton in the library one day by accident. 

He had a paper coming up for Mr. Sheepman’s class and needed to check out some books on the history of Wales to start his research. Ponce was in the stacks, debating which book would give him the most useful information, whenever he overheard someone talking in the next isle. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who it was or who he was talking about. Especially after namedropping Ponce’s own boyfriend. 

“-You know, I feel we have a connection that’s deeper than most people. He’s the one person around here I trust not to be fake with me and he isn’t.” Ponce knew that voice. He could recognize it anywhere and the fact that he was able to do such physically pained Ponce. The greaser grabbed the first book he could find on Wales and ducked around the isle to confirm his suspicion. Sure enough there was Axel, leaning against a bookshelf and chatting with Newton. “That JFK is a good dude and I’m proud to call him my best friend.”

Ponce laughed alerting the other boys to his presence. Axel crossed his arms in front of his chest and scowled, “What was that? What’s that laugh for?”

“I’ve known Jack since we were kids. I’ve seen him at his best and I’ve seen him at his worst. Yet you think you know him after being here what, two weeks?” Ponce asked. “You don’t know him. You’re not his best friend.”

Axel just rolled his eyes. “Is that jealousy I’m detecting from the outgoing companion of JFK?” 

“Outgoing?!” Ponce exclaimed. The nerve of this guy! The entire two weeks that the greaser had known him and he had been nothing but an asshole, and now he had the balls to suggest that JFK was going to ditch him?! At this point the only thing keeping Ponce from socking Axel square in the jaw was the fact that once he started laying into the other boy, he wasn’t going to be able to stop. 

“Yeah, you heard me.” Axel hissed. “When it was just you at this school, I get why Jackie would think you were cool and want to hang with you. But you’re not the big fish of the pond anymore. Everyone is waking up to the fact that you’re just some 50s wannabe with no real talent or personality to speak of. And its only a matter of time before Jackie drops you entirely.”

“You don’t know Jack...”

“I know Jack. I’m his best friend. And when he’s tired of your dumpy ass I’m going to be the guy he hooks up with next.” Axel stated in a matter-of-fact tone with the undeserved confidence only a high school douchebag could attain. He stepped up to the shorter boy as jabbed an accusing finger into his chest. “I’m going to take JFK to the prom while you spend your nights locked in your room at home. I’m going to fuck him so hard he forgets your name and only can remember mine. Honestly, I don’t see why someone like Jackie would ever have been interested in someone as lame as you. It had to have started out as a dare. Otherwise why would anyone ever let someone as short as you try and holler.”

Ponce didn’t punch Axel. His brain was begging, his heart was racing, but his body was unwilling. He was better than this. Ponce didn’t have to sink to Axel’s level. With his head held high Ponce calmly turned his back on the other two boys, checked out his book on Wales, and exited the library.

~~~~

Ponce hadn’t brought up what Axel said to him to Jack. He didn’t want to bring the other boy down. Ponce’s problems were his own and he had to be the one to settle them. In the meantime he opted to spend as much quality time as possible with his boyfriend. They made plans to grab some dinner and see Detective Pikachu Thursday after school. They’d head home, get changed, and Ponce would take the bike over to JFK’s place to pick him up for the show. The greaser had just gotten out of the shower and was drying his hair when he noticed he had a text. 

Hey. - Bambi

Hey. I was just about to head out to pick you up. - Poncey 

I know. Change of plans. - Bambi

I’m really sick and my dads aren’t letting me leave the house right now. - Bambi

What? - Poncey

I know. It’s so lame. - Bambi

Hopefully I’ll see you at school tomorrow or something if I’m feeling better but until then I’m bedridden. - Bambi

Okay. Feel better. - Poncey

Jack never cancelled their plans. Even before they were dating and were just two bros hanging out, he never cancelled. Ponce set his phone back down on his bedside table and sat down on the edge of his bed, staring down at the floor and letting the reality of what happened sink in. Axel’s words echoed throughout his head.  The outgoing companion of JFK ...

It couldn’t be...could it?

~~~~

JFK wasn’t at school the next day. Ponce didn’t know what to make of this. Part of him believes Jack’s story of being sick but another part of him, a darker, unstable part, whispered into Ponce’s ear that he was too busy fucking Axel to care about his pathetic excuse for a meet-up with Ponce. Class seemed to drag on forever and with every passing second the greaser’s desire for a cigarette increased dramatically. As soon as the bell for lunch rang Ponce was out of his seat, down the hall, and out the back door to the quad to have a smoke. His fingers shook as he lit his smoke and took a long drag. It never tasted delectable before. Ponce needed to  stop this before he went insane. The greaser took another long drag from his smoke, barely noticing when the doors to the school opened again and Axel appeared beside him on the steps, accompanied by his cronies.

“Well if it isn’t my buddy Fonzie-“

“I’m not your buddy,” Ponce fired back. “And you can fuck right off.”

“Someone’s in a bad mood today. You getting your period or something Fonz?” Axel asked. He froze, his nose scrunching up in disgust. “Gross.”

“What’s gross?” Ponce asked, taking another drag of his smoke. “With Axel it could be anything. 

“You smoking a cancer stick on school property. You trying to get emphysema or something?” Axel asked. “Then again it does match your whole 50s persona.”

Ponce flicked his smoke in Axel’s direction. “Fuck off.”

“No way! I’m doing a public service.” Axel responded and snatched the smoke from Ponce’s hand. He tossed it onto the ground and stomped it out, then looked back up into they greaser’s face and grinned like a madman, “It’s the janitor’s problem now.”

Something bubbled up inside of Ponce’s chest and he gave the other boy a harsh shove. Axel stumbled back into his row of friends who had all been waiting to catch him. “Back the fuck off!” 

Newton helped Axel get back to his feet and asked, “Is your dad even in today Ponce? I didn’t see him around.”

“Wait, wait, wait....his dad works here? Who’s his dad?” Axel demanded and Ponce came to a horrifying realization. Axel didn’t know he was the janitor’s son yet. But he would soon. A series of murmurs spread throughout the crowd before finally reaching the hipster leader. Axel’s face lit up like a child’s on Christmas. “The janitor?? Oh well that explains everything doesn’t it?”

“The fuck does that mean Alex?” Ponce snapped. He knew what it meant. He’d been the janitor’s son all his life, he knew how to recognize when someone was looking down at him for it. 

“Axel.” The hipster grunted. “Well you know, the outdated clothes, the cancer sticks, the garbage smell. You’re the loser son of some poor-ass janitor. No wonder Jackie dumped your ass.”

Ponce couldn’t hold back anymore. He surged forward, fist drawn and aimed squarely at Axel’s face when something unusual happened. Axel  caught it. Ponce froze, stunned that someone had actually managed to stop his punch, when Axel elbowed him in the jaw and sent him stumbling back. Ponce didn’t have time to recover. Axel was on him in a second delivering blow after blow to the greaser’s torso and face until Isaac and Voltaire had to pull him back. Ponce sat there, bruised, bloody, beaten, and stunned. No one had ever beaten him at a fight before...

“The old king is dead.” Axel shouted and fist pumped the air in triumphant. “Long live the new king!”

“Axel?” A voice called out from the door to the school. “Ponce?”

Jack stood there looking back and forth from his new friend and his best friend turned boyfriend. Suddenly Ponce couldn’t handle it anymore.The greaser climbed to his feet and took off sprinting down the pathway towards the parking lot. Axel watched him leave with a sneer, “What a pathetic little nerd. You can practically smell desperation off him.” The hipster spun around and held his arms open to the presidential clone. “Come to the king baby. Don’t worry, he’ll give you the loving you need.”

Jack stepped forward slowly until he and Axel were face to face. Axel, with a confident smirk, leaned in for a kiss but before their lips could meet JFK opened his mouth and projectile puked over the hipster. The amassed crowd all stumbled back screaming as they tried to separate themselves from the mess while Axel screamed and whined and tried to wipe the bike from his face with little avail. It had gotten everywhere. “Oh gross! What the fuck?!”

With vomit staining the front of his shirt and Axel distracted JFK took advantage of the situation and socked the new kid right in the face. Axel stumbled but somehow remained standing, allowing JFK to deliver another blow. And another. And another. Until Axel’s nose is in shards, his lips are busted open, and his eyes are starting to swell shut. The blood slowly dribbled down into the vomit and Axel collapsed to the ground. JFK knelt down and grabbed Axel by the hair, pulling him up so they were looking eye-to-eye. “Stay the fuck away from me and my best friend or else I’ll turn your intestines into the Gordian knot. Comprehende?”

“Y-yes...” Axel mumbled. Tears began to spill from his eyes due to the pain and his voice was a mere whimper. Jack let go of his hair and Axel’s head inadvertently slammed into the stone ground. For good measure JFK gave the other boy a kick in the back,

“Now why don’t you do something productive and go fuck your self with a pineapple or something Alex.” The presidential clone told him and stepped over his former friend. “I gotta go win my best friend back.”

~~~~

Ponce was going home. His left eye was beginning to swell over, his lip was busted, bruises were already started to swell and expand over his body, and everything hurt. Everything. While his body aches from the beat down Axel had given him, his heart trembled at the thought of what he and JFK were doing right now. Were they kissing or more? With Axel it was probably more. JFK, libido charged from witnessing his current partner physically destroy his former partner like some kind of wild animal, probably pulled Axel into the nearest closet or empty classroom and started getting hot and heavy. Would Axel hold JFK like Ponce did afterwards? Did he know about the soft, sensitive spot on Jack’s neck and how the presidential clone would whimper and tremble when someone licked or pressed a soft kiss there? And what about after sex? Would JFK invite him over to have dinner with us parents? What would Wally and Carl think of him? Hell, what would Axel’s parents think of JFK? They’d love him. It was impossible not to love him. He had such sweet eyes and the biggest heart out of any person Ponce had ever known. They’d love him in an instant and in a matter of time JFK would forget all about the greaser-wannabe who had fallen head over heels in love with him years ago.

Ponce walked slowly. His house was just a couple blocks over and as much as he wanted to get away from school, he had no idea what he wanted to do when he got home. His dad would be there too and there was no way Ponce could explain what happened to him without breaking down in tears. Hell, just as he walked and thought about all that had transpired today tears started to well up in his eyes. What would happen when Glen saw the bruises, saw his son on the verge of tears, asked for an explanation, and got a complete and utter meltdown instead? No...Ponce couldn’t do that to his father. He was all he had now. 

Out of the corner of his eye Ponce saw movement. He looked up just in time to see a familiar dull orange van pull up beside him. The passenger’s side door opened and a voice Ponce had grown to love called out to him, “Get in.” 

So JFK wanted to do this face to face huh? Well it wasn’t as if Ponce had anything else to do. With a sigh he climbed into the van and pulled the door shut behind him. Without even looking at the other boy Ponce mumbled, “I thought you were sick.”

“I am sick.” JFK replied. “I was only allowed out of the house to deliva’ an absence note to the secretary with strict ordas that I come home right afta.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because then I saw Alex laying into you in the hall and it made me sick.” JFK explained and Ponce dares to look up from the floor. JFK was ghostly pale with deep, dark purple bags under his eyes. He was wearing a pair of loose black sweats and old, raggedy tank top that’s collar was stained with vomit. Ponce had to resist the urge to punch himself in the face. Of course Jack was really sick “Literally. I threw up on Alex and then kicked the shit out of him. He looked hella gross when I was done. Vomit mixin’ into the blood you drew, on top of blood I drew...”

“Yeah, well, he still won.”

“No, he didn’t.” Jack said. “I kicked his ass. I won that fight.”

“And he won you.” 

“Did you just gloss over the fact that I beat the shit out of him? I’m not even going to touch the fact that you think I can be won like some prize or Cleo.” JFK asked. “I don’t give two shits about Alex. All I care about is you.”

“That not what Alex said.”

“Well Alex is a liar.” JFK fired back. “Ponce you’ve been my best friend since we were little kids. You’ve always been the coolest guy I know. No way in hell am I going to risk that for some hipster in a beanie.” 

“But what if Alex is right? What if the only reason I was so cool was because there was no competition? Motorcycles and leather can’t compete with modern shit.”

“Ponce, you’re not cool because you drive a motorcycle and wear a leather jacket, that by the way I find very sexy, you’re cool because of who you are.”

“A Fonzie rip-off?”

“No. You’re cool because you’re so nice and gentle towards everyone. You have this big, sweet, beautiful heart and the patience of a monk. Yet at the drop of a hat, when someone you love needs you you’re ready to fight to the death to defend them. That’s what makes you cool Ponce.” Jack leaned across the seat and cupped his best friend’s face in his hands, gently forcing him to look up into his eyes. He was smiling, albeit sadly at the fact that he had been an unaware participant to his bestfriend’s misery. But looking into those big, beautiful eyes, Ponce felt a cooling sense of relief wash over him. Nothing could be wrong with the world when his Bambi was looking at him like that. “It’s not a jacket or a bike, it’s you.” 

“Jackie-boy...” Ponce murmured softly. 

JFK moved in close and pressed a kiss to Ponce’s forehead. “I’m sorry.” 

“I flip out at you and you’re sorry?” The greaser asked. “For what?”

“When Alex was laying into you I thought it was all good-natured. It must have made you so uncomfortable and there I was laughing along like an idiot.” The presidential clone explained. “I’m sorry.”

“I really love you.” Ponce replied and wiped his eyes off on the sleeve of his jacket. “You know that?”

“I do. And I have no problems reminding you how much I-“ Mid-sentence Jack froze up. His body went completely stiff and his eyes nearly doubled in size. Ponce looked around, half-expecting to see Axel charging towards them on some bitter revenge strike with a shotgun but there was nothing. He looked back Jack, who seemed to loose any remaining ounce of colour from his face, and asked, 

“Jack? What’s wrong?”

JFK moved like a lightning bolt. In a flash the driver’s side door to van was open and he was out on the street, doubled over and retching onto the pavement. Ponce slid over into the driver’s seat for a closer look and winced at what he saw. “Oh wow, you’re really sick.” 

Jack’s sound of retching slowly dialled down into violent coughs and then nothing. Straightening up slowly he wiped his mouth off on his arm before answering, “Ye-yeah.”

Ponce reaches across the seat and opened the passenger side door for Jack to get in. “Come on. I’m taking you home. You shouldn’t be driving like this baby. You need to be in bed.”

JFK nodded weakly and made his way around the vehicle. He crawled up into the empty seat and weakly attempted to close the door. “Skip class and stay with me.”

Ponce had no intention of going back to school and running the risk of bumping into Axel again. Not to mention he needed some serious time to heal. “You know what it’s a Friday. What the hell.” He and Jack could spend their whole long weekend resting and recovering together in JFK’S room. 

~~~~

“What happened to you?”

Axel had been so absorbed in self pity as he sat outside the nurse’s office waiting for any kind of treatment that he hadn’t even noticed the other boy sitting across the hall from him. The hipster looked up at the other teen and, fully aware that he had no reason to protect his fake-reputation anymore, came clean. “JFK kicked my ass.”

This seemed to click with the other boy who nodded in understanding, “Yeah, he’s a pretty aggressive dude. Someone should have warned you.” 

“I thought he was this cool, real guy but it was all an illusion. That fucking tease.” What kind of sick thrill did he get from leading a decent guy like Axel on like that and then running off with that poser-loser Ponce? Well fuck the both of them! He didn’t need either of them to be cool! He was Alexander the God Damn Great! The other boy was looking at him expectantly and it took Axel a minute to realize he was waiting for the conversation to continue so he asked, “What are you here for?”

“Oh it’s this crazy story. See a few months ago I went on this trip to Paris and when I came back my girlfriend was pretending to be gay and dating this girl. So I flipped out at her, the principal called my homophobic, and now I’m required to go to tolerance counselling with the school guidance counsellor everyday.” The boy explained as thought it was a regular occurrence. Given how fucking weird this school was Axel wouldn’t be surprised if it was. “Oh and everyone in school hates me and beats me up every so often.” 

“Rough man.” Axel replied. “Name’s Alex The Great. Friends call me Axel. At least they used to.” 

“Cool nickname.” The other boy said and reached across the gap between them to shake Axel’s hand. “I’m Abe.”

Axel accepted Abe’s hand and gave it a shake. Though he couldn’t begin to explain how he knew, Axel had a good feeling about this guy. “You know Abe, I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.” 


	16. Prompt 16: Surprise

Dating JFK was a lot like dating a big kid. He was spontaneous, full of boundless energy, and easily excitable. It was like dating a child, or a golden retriever; you never knew what he was going to say or do next. Over the years Ponce had grown to love his unpredictability and his lively spirit. Though there were moments when it became frustrating, it was never enough to drive him away or cause any serious wedges between the pair. It brought a lot of excitement in the relationship in unfamiliar ways.

The nights they spent together were mostly at Ponce’s house. Not that they had any real problems with JFK’s foster parents. It was just that one of JFK’S fathers was a tad too eager that his son had finally started to experiment with his sexuality while the other trusted Ponce as much as an Australian trusted a dingo to protect their baby. It was just easy for the two to spend their shared nights at Ponce’s place where Ponce’s dad wasn’t going to be bursting into the bedroom every two minutes asking if they needed condoms or something. 

Ponce had all but settled in for the night. He’d gone into the bathroom to brush his teeth clad in a flannel pair of pyjama pants and slippers and came out to find Jack changing into his own sleepwear. However it wasn’t the other boy undressing that caught his attention. Ponce’s gaze fell instead onto his bed and on the plush creature sitting on one of his pillows. “You brought the alien?” He asked. 

A while back Ponce had treated the other boy on a surprise trip to the planetarium and had bought him a stuffed alien as a souvenir. The plush in question now sat at the head of the greaser’s bed, lifeless eyes looking straight ahead with a sewn on smile plastered on his little green face. Jack pulled tank top on over his head and flopped backwards onto the bed. He grabbed a hold of his alien plush and held it close. “Yeah! Of course! I take this little guy everywhere!”

As touching as it was that Jack was so invested in something his boyfriend bought him, Ponce didn’t see the point in bringing it outside the house. But if it made Jack happy who was he to complain. The greaser joined him on the bed and curled around the other boy, nuzzling into Jack’s shoulder. Unfortunately for Ponce his boyfriend’s attention was directed elsewhere. 

“Did you get rid of all your stuffed animals?” Jack asked. “Come to think of it, I don’t remember you ever having a stuffed animal. But you had to have...what was it? Classical teddy bear or I think it may have been a kitty-“

“I never had a stuffed animal.” Ponce explained and prayed to whatever god would listen that Jack would just drop it there. After over a decade of dealing with the presidential clone he should have known better. JFK gasped and bolted upright, grabbing Ponce by the shoulders and pulling him up with him, 

“What do you mean you never had a stuffed animal! Everyone has a stuffed animal! It’s a fact of life!” 

“I just never was bothered enough to ask for one.” Ponce explained. “I don’t get what the big deal is.”

The greaser’s words did nothing to convince his troubled boyfriend about his happiness as a child. JFK’s arms snakes around the shorter boy’s waist and pulled him into a tight embrace. “Oh Ponce, I had no idea how terrible your childhood was...”

“My childhood was fine Jack. I may not have had any stuffed animals but I had you.” If he didn’t take a stand now they weren’t going to get any sleep tonight. Squirming out of Jack’s embrace was deemed to be impossible so Ponce opted instead to fall backwards and take his boyfriend down with him. “Now come on. Bed time.” 

He really should have known that wouldn’t be the end of it. 

~~~

That Saturday Ponce was awoken at 9:00 am by the sound of a car horn outside his bedroom window. Still groggy and rubbing at his eyes Ponce forced himself to his feet and stumbled over to the window to see what was happening. Jack’s convertible sat in the driveway and its owner was behind the wheel pounding the horn. Ponce undid the lock on his window, opened it, and called out, “Ja-Jack? What are you doing?”

Having had success in waking the other boy up JFK laid off the horn. He waved up to him, “Morning!”

Ponce managed a short laugh. JFK was going to be the death of him. “Good morning. Don’t take this the wrong way but why the hell are you at my house?” They we’re both just lucky that Ponce’s dad had gone out with his girlfriend last night and had already made plans to spend the night with her. In hindsight Ponce should have suspected that JFK was planning something when he informed him of that fact and the presidential clone didn’t jump at the opportunity to spend some alone time with his best friend. 

“Get dressed! I have a surprise planned for you!” JFK shouted up to him and when Ponce made no effort to move started banging on the horn again. In an effort to keep any neighbours from writing up noise-code violations Ponce threw his hands up in defeat.

“Alright! Alright! Just give me a second and I’ll be right down!”

~~~

The second he got into the car JFK gave Ponce strict instructions to cover his eyes and keep them covered until given the heads up to look. Whatever this was about it had certainly gotten the other boy excited. JFK was practically bouncing in his seat as Ponce got in and buckled up. He tore out of the driveway and Ponce suddenly became very grateful that his eyes were closed. If Jack kept driving like this he was going to total this car yet  again . They drove in silent for a few minutes until Ponce felt JFK turn off the main road into a parking lot. The car stopped and Jack patted the other boy on the back, “Alright! You can look now!”

The greaser dropped his hands and his entire comprehension of the English language flew completely out the window at what he saw. Ponce didn’t know what to expect but _this_ certainly  wasn’t it. They were in the parking lot of a small outlet store painted bright blue and white and every person entering the business was a child with one if not both of their parents. A quick scan of the parking lot informed Ponce that he and JFK were the oldest people there not currently responsible for a child. 

“Tada!” Jack announced with a grin. “What do you think?”

“Build-A-Bear...” Ponce said. Was this some kind of joke? “Okay, I give. What are we doing at Build-A-Bear?”

“What every child does at Build-A-Bear!” JFK replied, opened the door, and all but jumped out. He ran around to Ponce’s side of the vehicle, opened the door, grabbed a hold of his boyfriend’s hand and started pulling him towards the entrance. “Just because you didn’t get to have a stuffed animal as a kid doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get away with it for the rest of your life. Get in that store and pick yourself out something nice.” 

“Jackie...” Ponce could think of a hundred reasons why they shouldn’t be here but he couldn’t bring himself to resist and let JFK pull him inside. A couple of concerned looks from browsing parents was enough to snap the greaser out of it. “This is really sweet but don’t you think we’re a bit too old to be in here.”

Jack’s response was simple. “No.”

“But-“

“No.” The presidential clone insisted and pulled his boyfriend over to a wall of possible plushes to choose from. “Look! They got a bunch over here to get started!”

Ponce wasn’t leaving this store without a stuffed animal so why bother fighting it? It was always a lot more fun to just go along with whatever shenanigans JFK had in store. The greaser picked an elephant plush off the shelf and looked for a price tag, “So what one do I pick?”

“Whicheva one you want.” Jack replied and grabbed a spotted dog plush off the shelf. “I’m buyin’. In fact I’m gettin’ this one for myself.”

“This one is cute, I guess.” Ponce observed, swapping out the elephant for a lion. Something felt off about these plushes though. “Is it supposed to be so...limp?”

“Do you not get what build-a-bear means?” Jack asked and Ponce just shrugged. It wasn’t as if he went out of his way to learn about this type of thing. “You stuff it yourself. You stuff it, you can put little noise box things in it so when you squeeze them it makes sounds, you can put these er uh scent-thingies in them, and you can dress them up. The world is your uh oyster!”

“Sky’s the limit.” Ponce reiterated. The store was set up into stations with arrows painted on the floor directing customers on the various steps to creating their plushes. The next station appeared to be where the toys were stuffed and scents and/or voice boxes were added to the creations. Ponce followed the arrow over and began sifting through the various sound recordings that could be added, “Alright. Let’s see what we got.”

Jack followed the other boy over and stood behind him. “There is one thing though.” The presidential clone piped up. “I want to pick your sound.” 

“Okay.” Ponce replied. What harm could possibly come from letting Jack put a sound clip inside his stuffed animal? Then the greaser saw the little memory cards where customers could record their own messages and suddenly Jack could do a lot of harm. “...They won’t let you say something nasty in a children’s store will they?”

~~~

JFK wouldn’t let Ponce hear the sound clip he’d given Ponce’s lion inside the store only fuelling the greaser’s suspicion that it was something not-safe-for-work. Carrying the plush around the store as they picked out clothing and accessories felt like he was carrying a cute, soft bomb that could go off any minute. Jack paid for their creations and the couple made their way through the parking lot to his convertible. The second they were in the car JFK reached into his bag and pulled out his new stuffed animal. “Football dog.”He proudly declared, showing the little guy off. “Whatcha think?”

“Cute.” Ponce told him and took note of the sweet scent coming off the plush. “You picked the lavender smell?”

“It’s a favourite of mine.” JFK replied honestly. “Favourite smell, favourite football team...I love yours though.”

Ponce produced the stuffed lion, clad in a tiny leather jacket and sunglasses, out of his bag. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a leather jacket.” 

“Give him a squeeze.” Jack suggested. 

“Alright.” Ponce said. There was no harm in doing so now that they were alone and there were no small ears around to hear what was sure to be something obscene. Ponce gave the little lion a hug but instead of hearing something that would cause Ponce to blush and sweat, three words squeaked out from the plush. “ _I love you_!” 

Ponce hadn’t been expecting that. He chuckled and leaned across the seat to kiss Jack’s cheek, “You big softie. And I was half-expecting something weird like a dinosaur roar.”

“No.” JFK said and gave his dog a squeeze. A horrifying roar erupted from inside the cute little plush. “I gave myself the dinosaur sound.”


	17. Prompt 17: Nightmares

_1994_

JFK had never slept over at Ponce’s house before. Not had Ponce ever slept over at JFK’s House. Despite them knowing and being each other’s closest friend for a couple of years now Ponce’s father had a strict rule regarding sleepovers which JFK found odd given how relaxed Glen was when it came to just about anything else. He suspected for the longest time that Ponce and his dad may have been hiding something from him and briefly attempted to investigate but all that fizzled out when JFK was able to confirm that his best friend and his dad were not, in fact, werewolves. 

JFK’s first invitation to spend the night at Ponce’s came during the summer between grades one and two and at first everything appeared to be normal. They went to the park, played video games, watched movies, and had pizza for dinner. Mr. Matthews was cool and respectful about them needing their own space while occasionally checking in every now and then to make sure that they hadn’t killed themselves. Overall it was a fun evening and Mr. Matthews even allowed the boys to stay up a half hour later than usual to finish a movie they had started on the Disney channel. Once it was over and the credits started to roll, the boys headed up to Ponce’s bedroom to call it a night. Though Ponce had offered Jack the guest bedroom, the rowdier of the two boys opted instead to spend the night in a sleeping bag he had brought from home so that he could be nearer to his buddy. Ponce then offered Jack his bed but again Jack refused and made himself comfortable on the floor. 

Jack couldn’t remember when he started to doze off but he was awoken around eleven thirty by the sound of groaning and whimpers. He opened one eye cautiously and looked around the room. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary so he closed his eye and attempted to fall back asleep. He heard the noise again and this time Jack sat up and looked behind him at the bed. Ponce was still asleep, his eyes were closed, but he was groaning and whimpering and moving around a lot. Jack pushed himself off the floor and sat down at the end of his best friend’s bed. “Ponce?” He asked, leaning over the other boy and placing his hand on Ponce’s shoulder. “Ponce are you alright?”

Ponce’s eyes snapped open and he swiped up at Jack. The other boy was able to move fast enough to grab ahold of Ponce’s hands and stop him from landing a hit but the suddenness of the attack had caused Jack yelp in surprise. If Glen wasn’t a heavy sleeper or had they been spending the night at JFK’s place, that noise alone would have been enough to wake JFK’s foster parents. “Ponce! It’s okay! It’s okay! It’s me!” 

His words finally got through to the other boy whose eyes widened at the recognition of what he had done and who it was that he had been attacking. Ponce slumped back against the headboard and rubbed his forehead. “Ja...Jack?” He asked, his voice groggy from a lack of sleep. “Sorry.”

JFK looked between his friend and the bedroom door. He had never seen his friend like this before and didn’t know what to do. For a second it was almost like the Ponce he knew was gone, replaced by someone else. “Shou-should I go get your dad?”

“No!” Ponce insisted. “No, I’m okay. Really.”

“You were screamin’ in your sleep though.” Jack pointed out. “I think we should get your dad.”

“No! If he knows that I’m still having night terrors he’ll never let me have sleepovers again!” Ponce said, “I’m okay now, honest!”

“Night terror?” Jack asked. He had heard of a nightmare before but never a night terror. He crawled back on the bed until he was sitting next to Ponce at the headboard. “What’s a night terror?”

“Like a nightmare. But worse. They’re much more real and scary.” 

“How do you get night terrors? Are they contagious?”

“No and nobody knows. They just happen.” Ponce explained with a sigh. “I know it’s weird.”

“It’s scary.” Jack added. He never wanted to have one! Nightmares about not wearing any pants to school were bad enough for him! “Do you remember them?”

“Sometimes.” Ponce replied and Jack shivered. There was a haunting look in his best friend’s eye, one that gave the other boy the creeps. “The bad ones I do. Like there’s one where I’m under water and I know I’m running out of air but I can’t find the surface...”

“What do you do?” Jack asked. “What do you do to make them go away?”

“Promise not to laugh?” Ponce waited until he got the confirming nod from JFK that he would not tell a soul about the things he had heard/witnessed at the Matthews residence that night. “My dad stays with me until I fall asleep again. I don’t know how it works, it just does.” 

“Makes you feel safe. I get it.” Jack had a couple stuffed animals at home that he used for the same purpose. Looking around Ponce’s room though he couldn’t see any soft, comforting plushes, and with Ponce insisting that they leave his dad be, that proved to be problematic. “So if you don’t want to go tell your dad what happened, how are you goin’ to go back to sleep?”

The other boy shrugged and crawled back underneath the covers. He laid on his back, arms folded nightly in front of his chest and gazing up at the ceiling. “I’ll just lay and wait until I fall asleep.”

“Well, maybe I can help.” Jack said lifting up the covers. He crawled beneath them next to Ponce and wrapped his arms around the other boy’s waist in a hug. He wasn’t Ponce’s father but maybe just being held by someone would be enough to keep the bad dreams at bay. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay.” Ponce said. “Can you...you promise not to tell anybody at school about this right? I don’t want people thinking I’m a weirdo.” 

“I don’t think you’re a weirdo.” JFK replied with a yawn. “But I won’t tell anybody. Promise.”

“Alright. Night Jack.”

“Night Ponce.”

~~~~

_2003_

Ponce awoke to something warm and heavy smacking him across the face. He yelped and bolted upright in bed, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark and scanning the room to see what had woken him up. It didn’t take long to identify. Something landed a heavy blow against his side and Ponce heard a familiar voice let out a pained scream. Beside him JFK thrashed around in his sleep, his face twisted up in pain as he screamed and swung his arms out, battling some invisible foe. 

“Ja-Jack?” Ponce asked. He had never seen his friend behave like this before, even when he was fully conscious. They greaser grabbed Jack’s shoulder and squeezed. “Jack?”

The presidential clone’s eyes burst open and he screamed. This time he had a target to aim at and he took a couple swings at the other boy. Luckily Ponce had enough time to let go of Jack’S shoulder and tumble backwards to avoid a blow to the face that would have surely shattered his nose. “Woah! Woah! Woah! It’s me!” Ponce cried out. “It’s just me!”

Jack went rigid. He froze mid-punch, starring down at the other boy as he slowly pieced together the situation. “Ponce...?” He asked slowly, his arm dropping at his side. It looked for a second that JFK may try to play this off as some sort of prank or him being quirky but as he knelt above his best friend struggling to control his heavy breathing, he cracked. Tears spilled from his beautiful chocolate brown eyes and Jack all but collapsed on top of the other boy. “Oh my god, Ponce!”

The sudden weight pinning him down caused Ponce to grunt but he was able to wiggle his arms out from beneath the sobbing jock and wrap them tightly around his shoulders. “What’s wrong? What happened baby?” He asked, taking the time to ensure that his voice was even softer than usual. JFK didn’t respond. Instead he buried his face in Ponce’s shoulder, his tears dampening the collar of Ponce’s shirt. 

“Jack...?” Ponce tried again. Jack never cried. He tried his best to force any feeling he perceived as ‘sissy’ aside and only cried when something really devastating happened. He cried when he was seven and his pet goldfish Chowder died, he cried when he was ten and found out that via the school grapevine that Chris Farley had died, and he cried when the network cancelled _My So Called Life._ JFK only cried at times associated with death or the end. In all the years he’d known him, Ponce had only seen Jack cry one time that he couldn’t explain. It was in the summer, shortly before they were about to start middle school, and Ponce had come by Jack’s to see if he wanted to play basketball. He found the other crying in his room and when asked as to what had gotten him so upset, JFK didn’t have an answer. He explained it as having woken up and felt an overwhelming sadness that he didn’t understand nor could he stop. Ponce stayed with him until finally Jack couldn’t take it anymore and the boys headed to the nearby park to try and clear their heads. It had been July 1999. “Bambi?”

Jack kept his face hidden and held onto Ponce as if at any minute he’d disappear. He didn’t respond for sometime and when he finally spoke, his voice was so light that Ponce almost didn’t hear him, “...you’re real. Right?”

“Yeah,” Ponce promised him. He slid one of his hands under Jack’s tank top and rubbed small circles against his back, hoping the extra contact may help calm the jock down. “Yeah I’m real. I’m here buddy.”

Jack inhaled sharply. He hesitated but eventually took one of his arms away from Ponce to rub some tears away from his eyes. He sniffled and Ponce felt his heart break inside his chest. The greaser hoped he never had to hear that sound again. “...Do you ever...remember things. From him.” 

“From who?” Ponce asked. 

“Juan Ponce De Leon.” JFK said. “The first one.”

“No.” Ponce replied much too quickly. He had never thought about it before. Being a clone, he wasn’t supposed to have any of the original Ponce De Leon’s memories but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. The greaser tried to think back to any memories, any familiarities he may have had that did not necessarily click with his upbringing. Nothing seemed to fit the bill. “I don’t think so. Maybe some of the night terrors I had as a kid were repressed memories from his past that I...that I managed to develop. But you’d think that they would warn us about that part.”

“It’s not fair.” Jack exclaimed and pulled back from Ponce. The greaser was finally able to see his bestfriend’s face, red and streaked with tears, and it physically pained him to see Jack so miserable. “Normal people have bad dreams about fallin’ from airplanes or of being lost as a kid. I don’t want to have dreams about bein’ in war or getting my head blown off!”

Ponce’s blood turned cold. It was a cold, harsh, slap to the face. “Is that what your dream was?” He asked. “Of...Dallas?”

“I don’t know! All I remember is-“ JFK’s eyes were wide. He was looking straight through Ponce at something else, something otherworldly. The jock spoke with an eery calmness. “...There was so much blood...”

They didn’t talk about how JFK’s clone father died. Part of Ponce suspected that JFK didn’t even know. Jack knew that the original was dead, and he knew that he had died young, and he knew that the death was sudden, but any details or conspiracies were entirely lost upon him. So if Jack was really dreaming about blood than that meant...

“It’s going to be okay.” Ponce told him and his voice was enough to pull Jack back down to earth. “I think we should go talk to someone about this. Skudworth likes you. He’ll think of something to keep the-the bad memories at bay.”

“I don’t want to talk about this shit. What if I’m defective?”

“You’re not defective. Cloning is an...unstable process. Who knows what will happen.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” 

“Are you sure?” Ponce asked but he could tell from the zombie-like look in Jack’s eyes that he was done with the matter for the time being. It was nearly three in the morning and he was exhausted from track and field practice. In a couple of hours they’d have to get up and get ready for school. All Jack wanted to do was go back to sleep and not have to worry about what was waiting for him when he closed his eyes, so for the time being Ponce surrendered his argument. “If you ever want to you can talk to me about it. You get that right? The second you need me, I’m there.”

“I know.” Jack replied with a yawn. “You’re always in my corner.” 

Ponce was growing drowsy again himself but he refused to drift off knowing that JFK ran the risk of having the nightmare again. He thought back to when he was a kid and tried to remember some of the things his father had done to help him get some shut eye after a night terror. One particular memory, of a sleepover with JFK, sprung to mind. “Here. I have an idea that may help you sleep better.” Ponce explained and his arms moved lower on the other boy’s body until they were wrapped snuggly around his hips. “Move over a bit.”

“What are you doing Ponce?” JFK asked, his voice a low warning. For once in his life Jack was not in the mood. Ponce just rolled his eyes and signalled for the other boy to flip over and face the wall. JFK did and Ponce nuzzled against the back of his neck, snuggling in close, 

“There. How does this feel?”

“I can feel your breath on the back of my neck.” JFK said. He wasn’t used to being the little spoon but then again his relationship with Ponce seemed to be characterized by doing things he wasn’t used to. Like making out with a dude, for one. “What now?”

“Well, I’m going to stay awake and hold on to you until you fall asleep.” Ponce answered him and pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of JFK’s neck. “And if you have another nightmare I’m going to be right here to help you out of it.”

Jack smiled a little. “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Don’t talk like that. I’m lucky to have you.” The greaser replied. “I’d be lost without you Jack.”

“And I’d be tired.” 


	18. Prompt 18: Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way too long and is crap. I’m sorry guys. 
> 
> A special shoutout to Kenneon for letting me borrow their character, the punk clone version of William Shakespeare, who I adore! I hope I did him justice!
> 
> As for Ludwig and Frank...I just needed two musical clones to fill in the gaps in the band and I made them assholes. Enjoy!

“Hey,” Frank asked leaning over the backseat, “What are we doing here?”

Ludwig kicked his feet up on the back of the driver’s seat. “Yeah Ponce, what’s the big deal? Why are we heading to some lame-o water park.”

Leave it to Frank & Luddy to hop into a van without asking a single question beforehand. Ponce didn’t have to give them the runaround like he did with Will, the drummer and singer were more than willing to follow their guitarist without a second thought.

A while back William Shakespeare and Ponce threw around the idea of starting a band. They briefly considered holding auditions for a lead vocals and drummer before Frank Sinatra and Ludwig Beethoven fell into their laps. Thus Thanes of Cawdor was born. They were a band but what type of band was yet to be decided. Will, who had wasted no time having Van Gogh design a killer logo for the group and using stencils to spray-paint it on the side of his van, wanted to form a punk group with lots of edgy song lyrics meant to be screamed out over a volatile crowd. Luddy lingered in the grunge genre on the hope of a revival. Frank liked jazz and the blues. As for Ponce, he didn’t understand what the other guys had against plain old rock and roll? Somehow though the guys made it work and Saturdays became a regular rehearsal time. When Frank and Luddy stopped by Will’s that morning to get some practice in, instead they were ushered into the playwrite’s van and told they were heading out to an audition. Neither understood what that audition had to do with the Exclamation Waterpark they were now parked outside. 

“Park management is looking for live entertainment. Willing to pay big.” Ponce explained. Will, who had spent nearly a quarter of a tank of gas driving this far out of town, perked up at the mention of money. Not that he would ever admit it. The last thing Shakespeare wanted to do was ‘sell out’. Ponce continued, “Not to mention that with so many passing tourists, there’s always the chance that some influencer could hear us.”

“So we’re auditioning for a gig on the hope and prayer that some big shot executive will be taking their kids on vacation?” Frank asked. It wasn’t the craziest idea in the world seeing how many celebrities had been discovered at hole-in-the-wall locations like this but it wasn’t ideal. “It’s a long shot.”

Luddy snorted and rolled his eyes, “Yeah, a long shot. And a shot we don’t need to take. We’re already connected in the music executives world.”

“No.” Will replied firmly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening so much that his knuckles turned white. “No, we’ve been over this. We cannot sell out to that stupid-“

He locked eyes with Ponce and Will stopped his little tirade to clear his throat. Ponce waited for him to continue, arms folded in front, and flames dancing in his normally tranquil hazel eyes. Will was forever grateful that Ponce did not have the power to kill on sight otherwise he would be completely destroyed by the guitar player. Not even dust, pale and tiny ash particles, would remain. So the bard’s clone bit his tongue and thought over his choice of words before speaking again. “...-We’re not using JFK’s family connections to boost ourselves. It’s a cheap way to get to the top, not to mention would involve sacrificing our very souls.”

Ludwig snorted and rolled his eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I’m fucking Shakespeare.” Will snapped. So he couldn’t lash out at JFK, even when the nitwit wasn’t present, nothing was stopping him from hurling abuse at his band mates. “You’re telling a fish not to swim. You know what happens when a fish doesn’t swim? The fish fucking suffocates. They need to swim to breathe.”

Frank was quick to come to Ludwig’s defence. “Dude that’s sharks.” 

“Sharks are fish!” By now Will’s face had turned cherry red and if this was some kind of cartoon Ponce would have expected to see steam pouring out of his ears and nose. Seeing the storm approaching, the explorer clone did the only thing he could think of to prevent it. He changed the subject. 

“Guys, don’t take this personally, but how did you manage to pass your classes this year?” Ponce asked. 

“I didn’t. I have to take remedial courses next year. Did you know they have remedial gym?” Frank responded. It made sense. Every gym class since kindergarten the singer clone would find one way or another to ditch and hide under the bleachers until the bed rang. Ponce remembered the other boy’s reason for skipping class had something to do with the clone of Marlon Brando and a dodgeball to the side of the head but Frank didn’t like to talk about it and the details were blurry. By now everyone had (mostly) accepted that Frank Sinatra didn’t run. 

“Cheating.” Ludwig stated with an aura of undeserved pride. “I sat next to Van Gogh.”

“Hey!” Will spun himself around and undid his seatbelt. He gave Frank a less than gentle shove out of the way so he could reach into the backseat and grab ahold of Ludwig by the collar of his shirt. “Vincent happens to be a friend of mine and I won’t have you cheating off him-“

Most people when faced with an angry Shakespeare would back down or at the very least express some form of distress. Ludwig did neither and remained as relaxed in Will’s grip as he would when in line at the post office. “Relax Will, I had permission.” Ludwig said. 

Will snorted, “I highly doubt that.”

“No, no, no! It was legit. We traded.”

“Traded? What did you trade?”

“Answers for blowjobs-“

The bard’s clone let go of Ludwig and flung himself back into the front seat, furiously wiping his hands on his pants as if he had been handing waste instead of his band mate. Said blowjobs wouldn’t have happened anytime recently but Will had no way of knowing that and wasn’t it taking any chances of contamination. Ponce couldn’t really blame him and made a mental note not to touch Ludwig in the near future. 

“Oh god!” Will screamed and went rooting around in the car’s glovebox for napkins or sanitizer, something to get himself clean. 

“Gross dude!” Frank exclaimed but the grin on his face told a different story. 

Ludwig looked around at his band mates’ various reactions to his revelation and raised an eyebrow, “What? I got an A and he got an O.”

“You’re disgusting.” Ponce fired back quickly. They had to get out of this van soon or someone was going to kill someone. His money was on Will finally snapping and bashing Ludwig’s head into the passenger’s side window. “Look I know you think it’s lame to be working a waterpark and everything but there’s some benefits to working here all summer.”

“Like what?” Frank asked. 

“Free admission any day of the week. Who wouldn’t want to spend their free time chilling here when the sun decides to make the world her bitch?”

“True.” Will reluctantly agreed. Last summer a heat wave in the middle of June had nearly crippled the town and half the school ended up renting the meat locker downtown just so they could have a cool place to study for the end of the year exams. 200 and some students crammed side-by-side in a rented storage facility for rotting meat...Will would take the waterpark to that any day. Even taking into account the loud, obnoxious, family-friendly songs that would inevitably be played on repeat over the loudspeakers. 

“Discounts on food and merch.”

“They do have these great water bottles here. Like full on 2 litre water bottles.” Frank piped up. “They’d be useful during remedial gym.”

“Lots of gorgeous single tourists looking to hook up with you guys.”

“Chicks do dig musicians.” That was true in theory but considering The Thanes of Cawdor was made up of three single dudes along with one in a relationship with another boy, they were lacking supporting evidence at the moment. But Ponce wasn’t going to risk loosing any ground he’d made with the guys by saying that. He finished his argument with what he believed to be his most compelling piece of evidence. 

“And there’s a pool.” 

“So?” Will asked. “I have a pool in my backyard. Why does it matter that this place has a pool?”

“Lifeguards.” Ponce answered quite simply. 

“Lifeguards?” Ludwig repeated, the meaning behind greaser’s words going straight over his head. Ponce waited and watched as Ludwig’s eyes lit up, the implication finally dawning upon him. “Lifeguards!”

Frank squealed like a preteen girl at an Arianna Grande concert. “Oh sweet merciful Pamela Anderson I love Lifeguards!” 

“We could watch them switch out!” Ludwig gushed clapping his hands together in excitement. “Beautiful, blonde Lifeguards doing that ever confident strut from the employee office to their station...”

“Slowly climbing out of the pool with beads of water dribbling down over their half-neck bodies covered only by a thin layer of the sexiest colour known to man...” Frank added with a dreamy smile. 

“Red!” Both clones shouted in unison. 

Will slammed his head down onto the steering wheel and groaned, “Ugh.” 

“Ugh yourself.” Frank said and kicked the back of Will’s seat. The singer’s clone opened his door and jumped out of the van with all the excitement of a golden retriever puppy. “Lets go see if they’re changing soon!”

Ludwig scrambled to follow Frank out of the van and when Will & Ponce weren’t moving quickly enough for his liking m, started banging along the side of the van. “Come on guys!”

The greaser opened his door and climbed out of the van. Will, on the other hand, slowly lifted his head and glared at his guitar player. “You did this.” He accused Ponce. “You did this to us.” 

~~~

By the time Ponce had managed to coax Will out of the van Ludwig & Frank were already poolside. Because they weren’t actually paying guests they couldn’t get into the pool area but both boys stood along the chainlink fence surrounding the pool, gripping the wires and peaking in on the swimmers. A lone female lifeguard in a bright red one piece swimsuit sat perched on the lifeguard’s tower overlooking the pool where a handful of children were playing. Ponce was able to recognize her the closer him and Will got to the pool. She went to school with them. Of course during school hours Evita maintained a modest style of dress that was not as revealing as her uniform. 

Frank was practically drooling over the unsuspecting lifeguard, “Oh Evita. You dress so modest and why? You got the legs hun, show them off.” He moaned. 

“Mmh. She is so fine so no matter what she wears. Those long skirts and turtlenecks do it for me. Like a sexy librarian.” Ludwig agreed. 

“My books are overdue and how will I ever be able to pay the fee?” 

“I’d love to just bend her over that check out desk-“

“Do you guys have no souls?” Will asked while Ponce chose to remain silent on the matter. He leaned against the fence though he had enough decency not to spy on their classmate at work. “You do realize that she’s a person with feelings right?”

“Yeah but she’ll never give us a shot. Let us have the fantasy. It’s all we got.” Frank pointed out and resumed his peeping.

Will scoffed and looked away, “Pathetic.”

“Oh Evita-“ Ludwig murmured in a low, husky voice. 

Frank, in a song-songy voice, moaned, “Don’t cum for me Argentina-“

“I’m in hell.” Will told Ponce who was too busy checking his watch to pay much attention to his band mates. After getting the time Ponce joined Ludwig and Frank at the fence only the boys’ Joy was short lived. Evita made her way down off the lifeguard’s tower and over to the change rooms near the back of the pool area. 

“Hey!” Ludwig exclaimed, “Where’s she going? She can’t leave the pool alone!”

“Shift change.” Ponce explained. “New guard’s coming out.” 

Frank closed his eyes and crossed his fingers, “Please be Marilyn Monroe in a two-piece! Please be Marilyn Monroe in a two-piece!” 

The new lifeguard came out from the change rooms and high-fived Evita as she made her way inside and out of the sun. They were wearing the standard bright red swim trunks to signify their authority at the pool, sleek black sunglasses, and a silver whistle on a chain around their neck. They made their way over to the lifeguard tower and took over for Evita, looking out over the pool with a reserved sense of dignity and power. 

“Ugh! It’s just Jack.” Ludwig groaned. “Wait a minute...”

Ponce smiled cheekily, his eyes glued to JFK. “You know what Frank? You’re right. Red is the sexiest colour known to man.” 

“Are you fucking serious Ponce?” Will shouted having seen who had come to relieve Evita of her shift. To say that he wasn’t impressed would be an understatement. One of these days Will was going to have an aneurism and while the cause of the tragedy would never be declared publicly, everyone would know that his hatred of JFK and Ponce’s bullshit would be the cause. “You dragged us all the way out here so you could make goo-goo eyes at that moron?!”

Ponce kept his eyes on Jack. “No. There really is an audition for a summer job here. I just omitted the fact that Jack works here too.” 

“You’re kidding right?” Frank asked. 

“It pays 20 an hour.” Ponce replied. Each.”

“Holy shit I’m in.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I mean we’d have to be stupid not to.”

“I hate all of you.” Will growled but it wasn’t a direct no so, knowing Will, that meant he was in. He hated them for putting him in this position but he was in. “So, so much.”

“Glad we’re all in agreement.” Ponce said taking a step back away from the fence. “I’m uh...I’m going to go say Hi to Jack while we’re here.”

“If you’re going to fuck at least wait until he’s off duty,” Frank warned him. “Some kid could drown Ponce-“

“We’re not going to fuck!” Ponce assured him. Not during business hours at least. It was Jack’s first job, Ponce wasn’t going to be the reason he got fired. Will just rolled his eyes and grabbed a hold of Ludwig’s arm, pulling him off towards the concession stands, knowing that Frank would follow. 

“Come on nerds. I’m hungry. Let’s get something greasy and fried.” 

“I thought you were a vegan?” Ludwig asked. 

“Just because he’s an asshole doesn’t make him a vegan.” Frank answered for the clone of the bard. 

“Go fuck yourselves. You guys are the worst.” 

Ponce waited until there was a good deal of distance between him and the guys before following along the fence towards the lifeguard tower. JFK was so focused on watching the kids he didn’t notice his best friend creeping around. It was endearing; it brought a smile to the greaser’s face to see his boyfriend taking his first job so seriously. Ponce leaned against the gate closest to the tower and called up to the other boy, “Hello gorgeous. How’s it going?”

“Ponce?” JFK asked looking around the pool area. He finally spotted Ponce lingering near the back gate and hopped down from his seat. “Did you drive all the way out here just to see little old me?” 

“Hey, it’s my baby’s first job. I wanted to see how he was holding up.” Ponce explained. Not that he had any doubts about JFK’s ability to take care of himself. Okay maybe he doubted Jack a little....

Jack leaned against the other side of the gate so he still had a view of the pool while talking to his boyfriend, “Wonderfully. What about you? How’s the band doing?”

“Shakespeare is going to kill us all at any moment. Ludwig and Frank continue to sink to new lows. They’re off grabbing some greasy junk before our audition. And I remain hopelessly devoted to you.”

“Aww, aren’t you sweet?” Jack practically swooned, “I really hope you guys get on here too. Then I could really give you the grand tour of this place. There’s a couple of supply closets that I think you’ll really enjoy.” 

“Not to mention that sick hot-tub.”

“Stick around after closing tonight and I’ll get you that hot-tub,” Jack said and pulled a red and white lanyard out from the pocket of his swim trunks. A small set of silver keys were attached to the end. The presidential clone swung them around between his fingers, “Closing shift Lifeguards get keys.” 


	19. Prompt 19: Angels & Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good Omens AU featuring the return of Will Shakespeare as an unlikely character.

Between the Bowery and Greenwich Village in some out-of-the-way little side street was a record store. A real whole in the wall type place that had been in business for decades now; opened right after World War Two and catapulted into rock and roll in the years that followed. The building was composed of brick and featured an old red & gold marquee baring the store’s name; Back Alley Records. It had been J. Deon’s during the store’s early years but the title had shifted to something ‘cooler’ following the emergence of rockabilly in the 1950s. The shop was moderately popular. Hipsters and oddballs got a nostalgic feeling stepped through the front door into a room with high ceilings, walls either made of exposed brick or red paint, and row upon row of boxes containing old records, cassette tapes, a-track tapes, and CDs on display. Framed posters promoting artists from Little Richard to Beyoncé to Beethoven to musicals covered the walls alongside vintage guitars in pristine condition mounted up for all to see. Towards the back of the store were several machines set up to allow potential costumers to listen to their purchases before and get a taste for the product. Behind that was a small room used as a studio to allow anyone interested in one of the guitars or other instruments on sale to test before spending thousands on them. Bathrooms were in the very rear of the store next to two separate doors. One lead to a storage room containing more pricier items and items ordered by clients personally and contained a back door out to the alley behind the store, the other holding a metal spiral staircase leading up into the apartment upstairs. 

Two people entered the store on Tuesday June 6th 2008 at exactly 6 pm in the evening. The store was open late that night due to an appointment made by the shop’s owner with a local rock band interested in purchasing several instruments in stock. The total, if they decided to buy, would be roughly around eight grand. Not that the owner was concerned with such trivial matters as money. The two people were a man and a woman; both young, both attractive, and both dressed to the nines in black. The woman was shorter than the man by perhaps a foot, though still tall for her gender, with hair an almost neon red cropped short around her face. The man had longer hair that dropped roughly around his shoulders and a variety of piercings across his ears and face. They were the sort of people one would expect to see at a tiny, retrograde music store but they were not customers. On the contrary, if a system of command was to be set in stone and handed down to them, they would be the owner’s employers. 

The owner, a young man who looked like James Dean stepped right off the cover of a magazine and into the 21st century, was ringing up the band when they entered the store. He hurried his final customers along, walked them to the door, and quickly locked it shut behind them while taking the time to make sure his sign read “Closed”. The man and woman waited, “Hello Ponce.”

“Hello Joan,” the man replied without turning to face his two guests. He stood at the door starring out into the busy New York streets.“Hello Will. Isn’t a surprise.”

The man, Will, coughed into his hand before speaking bluntly, “Yes, well, there’s a lot of those tonight.”

“Oh?” Ponce asked. This was enough to get him to leave his post. He walked back behind a counter and produced a cardboard box full of cds out from underneath. If these two were going to insist on sticking around the least he could do was manage his inventory while they spoke. “Like what?”

Joan approached the counter and placed her hand on top of Ponce’s in order to prevent him from any further rummaging. “It’s begun.” She warned her compatriot. 

Ponce raised an eyebrow, “What’s begun?”

Will answered for her, “The end times.” He replied and buried his hands deep in the pockets of the torn up leather jacket he had been wearing. He pulled a thin and crinkled piece of paper out and set it in front of the confused shop owner. “We have news from a reliable source that the antichrist child has been delivered. Eleven years from now and we will be marching triumphantly into battle to defeat the forces of evil once and for all!”

Ponce’s eyes grew wide and his mouth hung open, “The apocalypse. You’re talking about the apocalypse!” He exclaimed. He didn’t have to look at the piece of paper to know that it was a name. The name of the spawn of the devil. He had one now. “B-b-But it’s so soon! Are you sure that information is accurate?”

“It comes from a top informant.” Joan assured Ponce in an effort to soothe what she believed to be nerves. After all they had been building to this moment for centuries. What angel could possibly have reservations against the impending end times? “As we speak the serpent is placing the child among its human parents. You’re familiar with the serpent of course?”

“Yes. I’m aware of him.” It was impossible to be an agent of heaven and not have heard of him. The original tempter, the snake who lead Eve to corruption, a demon of pure chaos and lust who walked the Earth in human form. “He’s hell’s guy on earth like I am yours.”

“Surprised you two haven’t crossed paths yet.” Will mused. He had never been one to hide his disgust at the other side. Centuries ago, before the fall, rumour had it that he had successfully predicted which angels were plotting against their master. Difficult to please but close with their master, Will ensured within a few minutes of meeting him you knew exactly what his impression was. The serpent, even before the fall, had in his eyes been a waste of electrons and magic. “Or at least, that he hasn’t noticed you.”

Ponce shifted awkwardly at the implication but somehow was able to speak without his voice cracking, “Oh well you know demons. If he isn’t off corrupting some poor priest, he’s seducing some poor soul.” For good measure he quickly added, “Unredeemable fiends.” 

“Well, allow me the pleasure of setting his execution aside for you.” Will said with a smile that was far too wide to be comforting or viewed as natural, “When the legions of Hell fall, you may cut off his head.” 

Ponce forced a smile that he was certain was just as unnerving as Will’s own and weakly raised his fist in the air in a pathetic attempt of an excited fist pump, “...Yay.” 

~~~

Across town in a little diner on some Brooklyn side street a man sat alone at a booth near the back of the restaurant furiously pecking at the cherry cheesecake he’d ordered. It was his second serving and it would not be his last that particular evening. The doors to the establishment opened as alerted by the chime but the man did not look up. He kept shoving copious amounts of sugar down his gullet, determined to finish the tasty treat in a matter of seconds. He didn’t even bother to look up when the newcomer to the restaurant slid into the empty seat across from him and propped a menu up so they could speak as privately as two could in such a public space. 

“Thought you’d be here.” The newcomer said, “You eat when you’re stressed.”

“Do I?” The first man asked and finally looked up from his plate. His eyes were brown, a deep, rich, chocolate brown with a thick black stripe down the centre of his irises like that of a snake. Beside him folded neatly on the table were a pair of designer sunglasses used to hide his inhumanity. The serpent had come straight to his favourite greasy spoon after completing his task of dropping off the antichrist and had been medicating his pain with sweets ever since. “Gee, I wonder what I could have to be stressed about. Maybe the fact that in 11 years the planet is toast!”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” The man across the table, the very same man who had just had a less than pleasant encounter with two other angels in his record store, stated with a slight roll of his eyes. 6000 years together meant he knew how to handle his friend’s...tendency for the dramatics, “What happened Jack?”

The serpent had taken the name in the late 19th century. It was better than being known as a reptile for eternity. Jack had not been his first choice. Rather the demon had selected three initials to go by and over the years the names had been filled out. Jack replaced John back in 1943 after an unfortunate run-in with the draft board that almost ended with the serpent being recruited to the US military. Ponce had been careful to remember the change. “I was called to a meeting with two of our guys. You remember Catherine and Cleo?”

Two demons of lust, former angels, cast down for standing with Lucifer during the rebellion. They slept with him too if there was any truth to the rumours. Ponce winced, “I wish I didn’t. Continue.”

“Right. They said they had something to talk about and after the standard meeting stuff, Cleo hands me a basket. Inside is the newly born antichrist.” Jack’s slitted eyes widened upon saying this part and expanded. Yet again Ponce was reminded of a cat. “Apparently my work on Earth really made a lasting impression with the big guy.” 

“Well you did take credit for starting World War Two, the Spanish Inquisition, mass construction of roundabouts-“

“Humans are shitty. Am I really at fault if they do and make shitty things. Besides, 6000 years and not once did Hell try to verify my claims. Am I really at fault if they’re that lazy?” Jack exclaimed waving his companion’s point off completely. It wasn’t that it wasn’t true. It was just that Jack was a demon. Demons of all kind tried to push off any responsibility for their actions. At least according to the majority of the angels they did. Ponce had lived long enough to witness otherwise. “I had to drop the kid off. If I had done something they would have killed me.”

“I know that.” The angel assured him. Though Jack had been the only demon Ponce had any up close contact with since the war, demons did not have a reputation for being forgiving of mistakes. “Where’s the child now?”

“He’s with a diplomat. The planning committee thought the reference would be funny.”

“I never did understand demonic humour.” 

“Better than angelic. Your lot’s idea of funny is The Big Bang Theory. Eleven seasons all because of the interference of you Angels.” 

“We’re not perfect.” Was Ponce’s only response to that. He leaned across the table and snatched one of the few remaining cherries off the remnants of Jack’s cheesecake. “We need a plan Jack.”

Jack popped another fork full of cheesecake into his mouth, “Kill the boy.”

“You just said-“

“I just said I can’t kill the boy. You kill the boy.”

“No!” Ponce exclaimed and slammed his fists down on the countertop, shaking the plate of cheesecake in process. A few people looked up from their meals to see what the commotion was about but quickly lost interest and went back to their own food and table conversations. “Angels do not kill.”

“Your chum Will was doing quite a lot of smiting at Sodom if I recall.” Jack replied rather coldly and popped the last bit of cheesecake into his mouth. 

“He’s not my chum. Really now Jack, there must be a more peaceful option of securing the world’s safety.” Said Ponce and the angel paused a moment to consider their options and think. Jack pushed the now empty dinner plate to the side and watched his angelic companion try to piece together a plan. “...What if he wasn’t evil?”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked. The child was the antichrist, it was impossible for him not to be evil from birth. 

“I mean what if he’s a normal little boy with no destructive tendencies?” Ponce explained as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“And just how would that happen?” Jack asked. Being raised by an American diplomat and his rich, entitled wife was not a promising start for a child everyone was hoping to be saint-like. 

Ponce shrugged and relaxed back against the soft padded cushion of his seat, “Oh there’s various ways. For starters, a good, holy influence in his life.”

The demon cocked an eyebrow and a playful smirk formed on his lips, “What are you implying?” Jack asked, fully aware of what the angel was going to suggest. 

“I’m not implying. I’m saying that we play a role in a way the boy is raised. We take positions close to him and steer him towards the path of good or normality. The boy turns 11, but he’s uninterested in his power, the apocalypse is averted, the world goes on spinning.” Ponce spoke as if it was the simplest, most obvious thing in the world. In reality it was a convoluted plan that the safety of the world depended upon. Failure meant apocalypse, widespread death and destruction, and the eventual elimination of rock & roll music. All things both the angel and the demon could agree were horrible. 

“That’s good.” Jack mused and kicked his feet up on the countertop. He fished a cigarette out from the pocket of his khakis and summoned a small, controlled amount of Hell fire to his hand in order to light it. The demon took a long, smooth drag, before adding, “You were always the smart one, Angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made Ponce an angel for obvious reasons (him being a pure, good boy) but then casting the other angels I was like “well Joan and Will fit his aesthetic” so there you go. Goth/punk/greaser angels versus jock/prep demons. 
> 
> IDK who the antichrist in this AU is so have fun voting on who it is or something. 
> 
> Sorry for the wait folks!


End file.
